LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
DAVIS 


THREE    PLAYS    BY    M.    DOUGLAS    FLATTERY 


THREE     PLAYS     BY 
M.   DOUGLAS   FLATTERY 


ANNIE  LAURIE   : :   THE  SUBTERFUGE 
THE  CONSPIRATORS 


BOSTON 

THE  FOUR  SEAS  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


LIBRARY 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


Copyright,  1905,  1913,  1921,  by 

M.   DOUGLAS   FLATTERY 


All  rights  are  expressly  reserved,  including  dramatic,  stage, 
and  moving  picture  rights.  For  rights  of  public  perform 
ance,  address  the  publishers,  who  are  the  author's  agents. 


The     Four     Seas     Press 
Boston,   Mass.,   U.   S.   A. 


CONTENTS 

Page 

ANNIE  LAURIE      .        .  9 

THE  CONSPIRATORS        .  &1 

THE  SUBTERFUGE I5I 


ANNIE    LAURIE 

A  ROMANTIC  DRAMA  IN  FOUR  ACTS  AND  FIVE  SCENES 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 
[Original  production  August  9, 1909,  Orpheum  Theatre,  Boston] 

ROBERT  REID,  a  soldier  of  fortune  Charles  F.  Miller 

LORD  GREENOCK,  a  powerful  but  dissipated  nobleman 

Walter  Walker 

ICHABOD  BOUNCE,  an  outlawed  preacher  Edwin  Holland 
MACKAY,  a  captain  of  Scots  Musketeers  Wyrley  Birch 
TAMMY  ROBINSON,  Lord  Greenock's  factotum 

Harry  English 
LORD  MclNTYRE,  Privy  Councillor,  friend  of  Greenock 

John  Meehan 
EARL    DUMBARTON,    King   James's    favorite   and    Com- 

mander-in-Chief  of  the  Scottish  Army     Wm.  Mason 
LORD  CHANCELLOR  Paul  Lint  on 

LORD  CLAVERHOUSE  George  Wellington 

GENERAL  DALZIEL  Andrew  Dalton 

SERGEANT  WEYMSS  HAY,  Scots  Musketeers 

/.  Francis  Sullivan 

THE  BUTLER,  at  Maxwelton  Castle  Walter  James 

HUBERT  McGEE,  a  soldier  Stanley  Graves 

SIR  THOMAS  CAMPBELL  John  MacNeil 

ANNIE  LAURIE,  of  Maxwelton  Edna  Bruns 

HILDA  LOVAT,  her  friend  Mary  Sanders 

MARGARET,  Lord  Greenock's  housekeeper 

Katherine  Clinton 

LADY  MARY,  Annie's  great-aunt  Rose  Morison 

JEANNIE,  the  cook  at  Maxwelton  Hazele  Burgess 

SARAH,  the  maid  at  Maxwelton  Castle      Jeannette  Briggs 

PRIVY  COUNCILLORS,  SOLDIERS,  SERVANTS,  ETC. 


ACT  I. 

[Castle  of  Maxwelton  near  Edinburgh.  Time  1668 — 
Evening.  The  left  of  stage  shows  part  of  interior  of 
dining  room,  lighted  by  candles  (or  candelabra).  Right, 
the  lawn  outside  Castle  is  shown.] 

[Discover  LADY   MARY  and  BUTLER.      LADY   MARY  is 

reading  a  letter.] 

LADY  MARY.  God  keep  us  from  harm.  I  wish  my 
brother  would  come  home  and  live  peacefully  for  his  few 
remaining  days. 

BUTLER.  The  master  was  never  one  to  rest  easily  when 
the  sword  was  clashing  and  the  guns  roaring.  Any  news, 
my  lady? 

LADY  MARY.  Yes,  none  too  good.  The  preacher 
Bounce,  who  is  in  hiding  on  the  moor,  has  come  from 
Holland  to  get  the  names  of  the  Lords  and  gentry  to  a 
petition. 

BUTLER.    What's  that? 

LADY  MARY.  A  paper — a  letter  inviting  William  of 
Orange  to  invade  England  and  drive  James  from  the 
throne. 

BUTLER.     Oh!    Oh!    More  war  and  bloodshed. 

LADY  MARY.  Yes,  I'm  afraid  so,  but  I  have  no  more 
kin  to  lose  in  battle,  none  but  Annie  Laurie  remaining. 

BUTLER.  You  need  not  fear  the  battle,  my  lady,  but 
the  raid. 

LADY  MARY.  Yes,  yes,  we  all  suffer  in  such  times. 
But  enough.  The  preacher  will  be  here  to-night  if  he 
can  avoid  the  patrol,  and  as  my  brother  recommends  him 
to  my  care  we  must  show  him  what  hospitality  we  can. 

[ICHABOD  enters  Right,  and  looking  apprehensively 
about  steals  to  the  door  and  knocks.  LADY  MARY 
9 


io  THREE    PLAYS 

and  BUTLER,  who  have  been  busying  themselves  in 
the  room,  seem  startled.] 

BUTLER.  Ho  there !  What  want  ye  at  this  hour  ?  Who 
are  ye? 

ICHABOD.    A  friend  in  distress. 

BUTLER.     Gang  awa  wi  ye,  or  I'll  set  the  dogs  on  ye. 

ICHABOD.  Open  quick.  There  is  danger  about.  I  have 
a  message  for  your  lady. 

BUTLER.     Your  name? 

ICHABOD.  Never  mind  my  name.  I  come  from  the 
laird,  her  brother. 

LADY  MARY.     It  must  be  the  preacher.    Open. 

[ BUTLER  draws  the  bolt.  Enter  ICHABOD.  TAMMY  is 
seen  peeping  from  behind  a  tree  up  stage  Right.  He 
beckons  to  someone  off,  and  man  enters.] 

TAMMY.  The  game  is  in  the  cover.  Mount  your  nag 
and  go  as  if  the  divvle  was  after  you.  Tell  his  lordship 
to  send  the  soldiers  and  I'll  meet  him  at  the  Tolbooth  to 
get  the  warrant.  (Exit.}  Off  with  ye. 

LADY  MARY.     Well,  sir.    Your  business? 

ICHABOD.  To  crave  hospitality  for  a  few  days  and  get 
your  support  for  the  good  cause. 

LADY  MARY.     The  good  cause? 

ICHABOD.  Aye,  my  lady.  The  good  and  holy  cause  of 
Kirk  and  covenant.  The  traitor  James  Stuart  will  surely 
be  driven  into  the  sea,  and  good  friends  must  all  help. 

LADY  MARY.  God  save  us,  sir!  I  have  nothing  to  do 
with  such  things.  My  age  and  sex  must  be  my  excuse. 

ICHABOD.  Nor  age  nor  sex  will  excuse  you  on  the  day 
of  Judgment.  Your  duty  to  God  and  Country  calls  on 
you.  Your  station  makes  it  necessary  for  you  to  take  a 
stand  with  good  people  or  with  the  Usurper. 

LADY  MARY.  Stay  here,  sir,  and  enjoy  food,  drink,  and 
bed  until  you  can  travel  but  I  like  not  those  papers. 

ICHABOD.  I  have  tasted  neither  food  nor  drink  since 
yesterday  at  sunrise,  but  I  touch  not  refreshment  under 
your  roof  until  you  declare  yourself.  (Staggers  and 
grasps  chair  for  support.) 


ANNIE    LAURIE  n 

LADY  MARY.     Are  you  ill? 

ICHABOD.    Not  ill,  just  weak  for  lack  of  food  and  drink. 

BUTLER.  Here,  take  this.  It  will  set  you  up.  Nothing 
like  a  wee  drop  of  brandy  to — 

ICHABOD  (Knocks  silver  cup  from  his  hand).  Brandy, 
do  you  say?  Get  thee  behind  me,  Satan. 

BUTLER.  You  gommeral.  I'd  like  to  throw  you  out 
with  my  lady's  permission. 

LADY  MARY.  Begone,  James.  (Exit  BUTLER  Left, 
scowling  at  ICHABOD.) 

ICHABOD.  My  lady,  your  good  brother  in  Holland  is 
dying  and  craves  to  get  back  to  his  own  land  to  rest  his 
weary  bones.  He  is  outlawed  by  James  and  can  hope  for 
pardon  only  when  William  is  on  the  throne.  Will  you  do 
nothing  to  help  him? 

LADY  MARY.  What  can  I  do?  I  am  an  old  woman 
and  helpless. 

ICHABOD.  See,  here  is  the  petition  to  the  good  William. 
Over  one  hundred  nobles  and  gentry  have  signed.  Your 
name  will  show  where  your  heart  is  and  will  do  no  harm. 

LADY  MARY.  But  if  you  should  be  discovered  and 
captured,  what  would  become  of  us? 

ICHABOD.  No  fear  of  that.  The  whole  country  is  dis 
affected.  The  Council  which  misgoverns  the  country 
while  James  is  carousing  in  London  has  made  every  man 
discontented  with  their  search  warrants  and  torture.  No 
man's  home  is  sacred,  no  woman's  virtue  secure,  but 
vengeance  approacheth. 

LADY  MARY.  Hush!  Even  the  servants  are  not  safe. 
What  are  your  plans? 

ICHABOD.  To  hide  here  with  your  permission  for  three 
days,  when  a  boat  will  await  me  to  take  me  on  board  a 
schooner  for  the  Continent.  These  names  will  decide 
William.  Inside  three  months  he  will  be  in  London  with 
an  army/  and  James  will  be  a  fugitive  or  dead. 

LADY  MARY.     Oh  for  a  few  years  of  peace  and  quiet ! 

ICHABOD.  There  will  be  no  peace  while  James  reigns. 
Will  you  sign? 


12  THREE    PLAYS 

LADY  MARY.  I  suppose  I  must,  but  I  fear  I  know  not 
what. 

[She  signs.  ICHABOD  takes  paper,  folds  it  carefully  and 
hides  it  in  his  clothing.} 

LADY  MARY  (touches  gong.  Enter  BUTLER  Left.) 
Show  Master  Bounce  a  room  in  the  west  tower,  and  lay 
an  extra  plate.  Dinner  will  be  served  when  you  are 
ready,  sir. 

ICHABOD.  You  won't  have  long  to  wait  for  me,  my 
lady,  because  I  am  about  famished.  (Exit  Left,  fol 
lowing  BUTLER.) 

LADY  MARY.  I  fear  me  I  have  done  wrong  in  signing 
that  paper.  (Leans  her  head  on  her  hand  and  table. 
Enter  ANNIE  Left.) 

ANNIE.  Grannie,  are  you  ill?  Can't  I  get  something 
for  you?  (Puts  her  arms  around  LADY  MARY.) 

LADY  MARY.    My  love,  not  ill,  only  weary  and  worried. 

ANNIE.  What  worries  you,  grannie?  Share  it  with 
me.  That  will  lessen  the  burden. 

LADY  MARY.  The  preacher  Bounce,  whom  your  uncle 
wrote  about,  has  arrived  and  he  brings  talk  of  war  and 
plunder  and  raiding.  Oh,  God  of  Peace,  why  do  you 
permit  it? 

ANNIE.  Well,  dear,  it  can't  hurt  us  very  much.  If  the 
armies  come  this  way  we'll  stay  shut  up  in  our  old  castle 
until  they  pass  by. 

LADY  MARY.  Impossible,  my  child.  They  swarm  the 
land  like  locusts  and  devour  everything ;  and  leave  nothing 
but  destruction  and  ruin  behind  them.  Friend  and  foe 
suffer  alike.  But  enough,  we  must  prepare  for  dinner. 

ANNIE.     Is  the  preacher  to  dine  with  us? 

LADY  MARY.  Yes,  dear,  and  run  now  and  tell  the  cook 
not  to  use  any  brandy  in  her  sauce  for  the  plum  pudding. 

ANNIE.    No  sauce,  Auntie ! 

LADY  MARY.  No  brandy,  dear.  The  preacher  is  a 
fanatic  and  would  choke  if  he  knew  his  food  were 
flavored  with  whiskey  or  brandy. 

ANNIE.     (Laughing).    I'm  afraid  cook  will  refuse  to 


ANNIE    LAURIE  13 

give  us  any  dinner  at  all  when  she  hears  that  her  beautiful 
pudding  is  to  be  spoilt  with  unflavored  sauce.  (Exit  Left.} 

[Enter  BUTLER  and  MAID,  Left.} 

LADY  MARY.  Serve  dinner  in  fifteen  minutes,  James. 
(Exit  Left.) 

BUTLER.  (Right  of  table,  who  has  heard  same.)  Yes, 
my  lady,  but  it's  a  pity  to  spoil  the  plum  pudding  for  the 
sake  of  that  fule  preacher. 

MAID.  (At  Left  of  table.)  Who's  a-goin'  to  spoil  the 
plum  puddin'?  Air  ye  daft? 

BUTLER.    I'm  na  daft,  but  the  cook  will  be  daft  when 

my  lady  tells  her  there's  to  be  nae  brandy  on  the  puddin' 

for  fear  of  hurtin'  the  susceptibeelities  o'  the  meenister. 

MAID.     I  hae  ma  doots  aboot  a  wee  drap  o'  brandy 

hurtin'  his  what-you-may-ca'-it.     (Exit). 

[Enter  COOK,  who  places  pudding  on  sideboard.} 
BUTLER.    Weel,  Jeannie,  ma  girl,  I'm  thinkin'  that  the 
best  pairt  o'  your  plum  puddin'  will  be  missin'  at  the 
dinner. 

COOK.  (Up  Center  of  table).  Ye're  talkin',  John,  but 
I  don't  get  much  o'  your  meanin'.  I'm  thinkin'  that  that's 
the  best  plum  puddin'  I  ever  made,  and  a'  it  needs  is  a 
wee  drap  o'  brandy  to  gie  it  a  flavor  that  will  reach  your 
shoe-straps. 

BUTLER.      (Facing    sideboard    and    talking    over    his  • 
shoulder) .    Ho  !  ho  !  brandy,  is  it?    And  don't  ye  ken  that 
the  leddies  decided  not  to  have  even  a  thimbleful?  'Tis 
an  abomination  in  the  eyes  of  the  gude  mon  frae  Holland, 
and  would  choke  him.     (Exit). 

COOK.  And  I  hope  it  will  choke  the  gommeral !  To 
think  of  my  beautiful  puddin',  which  took  me  a  week  to 
make,  should  be  spoilt.  (Takes  pudding  up,  smells  it 
rapturously,  and  puts  it  down  with  a  sigh.  Then  takes  up 
a  large  jar  of  brandy,  and  takes  out  the  cork.)  Ah !  here 
is  the  stuff  to  mak'  it  perfect.  I'll  put  on  just  a  wee 
drappie — they'll  never  know. 

[Pours  a  cupful  of  brandy  on  the  pudding  and  exit 
Left.     Enter  BUTLER.] 


i4  THREE    PLAYS 

BUTLER.  I'm  thinkin'  a  glassful  will  na  hurt  the  meenis- 
ter,  and  'twill  help  the  pudding. 

[Pours  a  glassful  of  brandy    on    the   pudding.      Exit. 

Enter  MAID  stealthily.} 

MAID.  (Up  at  sideboard).  Och!  I  canna  rest  at  the 
thocht  o'  the  graund  pudding  being  spoilt.  The  meenister 
will  never  ken  a  little. 

[Pours  a  glassful  of  brandy  on  the  pudding  and  spills 
more  of  it  in  her  haste,  and  then  exit.  Enter  LADY 
MARY  and  BUTLER,  Left.] 

LADY  MARY.  Lack-a-day,  that  a  lady  of  the  house  of 
Maxwelton  should  have  to  creep  round  her  own  castle 
like  a  malefactor,  and  be  afraid  to  entertain  whatever 
guest  she  chooses — whether  from  Castle  or  Kirk.  If 
those  bloodthirsty  lairds  knew  that  the  preacher  were 
here,  they'd  hang  him  from  our  own  doorpost  before 
morning,  and  maybe  give  us  poor  ladies  a  turn  in  the 
cells  of  Edinburgh  Castle.  (She  proceeds  to  arrange  the 
table).  Ah!  here's  the  pudding.  Faith!  'twill  be  of  poor 
flavor  without  a  little  good  brandy.  But  if  Master 
Ichabod  found  the  taste  of  brandy  on  his  food,  he'd  choke. 
Well,  though,  'tis  a  pity  not  to  have  a  little,  just  to  take 
the  taste  of  the  pot  off  it. 

[  BUTLER  laughs  and  exit.     She  pours  some  brandy  on 

pudding  and  exit.     Enter  ANNIE,  Left.] 
ANNIE.     Oh,  dear  me!     I'm  afraid  I'm  going  to  do 
something   dreadful,   but    cook   is    so   angry   about   her 
pudding  not  being  flavored,  that  I'm  going  to  put  just  a 
spoonful  of  brandy  on  it. 

[Goes  Right  Center,  pours  some  brandy  from  jar,  and 

spills  a  lot  on  the  pudding,  in  her  nervousness  when 

she  hears  someone  approaching.    Enter  LADY  MARY 

and  ICHABOD,  followed  by  BUTLER  and  MAID.     They 

sit  down  to  the  table  and  ICHABOD  asks  the  blessing.] 

ICHABOD.     (At  back  of  table,  unctiously.)    Bless  ye  the 

food  which  we  eat  to  sustain  our  bodies  in  the  fight  against 

the  cursed  usurper.  And  bless  the  drink — the  aqua  pura — 

sent  by  a  beneficent  Providence  to  moisten  our  lips,  and 


ANNIE    LAURIE  15 

help  us  to  resist  the  cursed  firewater,  invented  by  Satan 
for  our  especial  temptation.  I  thank  thee,  O  Father,  that 
this  devil's  drink  has  never  passed  my  lips.  So  keep  me 
and  all  of  us,  Amen. 

[LADY  MARY,  ANNIE,  BUTLER  AND  MAID  all  show  signs 
of  embarrassment.  Dinner  is  served,  and  dishes  are 
passed.  During  dialogue,  a  patrol  of  the  Royal  Scots 
headed  by^  MACKAY  enters  by  right  of  stage. 
MACKAY  is  accompanied  by  his  young  friend, 
ROBERT  REED,  and  by  SEARGEANT  WEYMSS,  second  in 
command.] 

MACKAY.    Sergeant,  where  tarries  that  loitering  lubber 
who  was  to  have  joined  us  on  the  march? 
SERGEANT.    You  mean  the  macer,  sir? 
MACKAY.     Ay,  he  has  the  Council's  warrant  for  this 
dirty  work. 

SERGEANT.     That   must  be  he   yonder  by  the   ruins. 
(Goes  up  Right.) 

ROBERT.     He  with  the  rapier  and  feather!     He  looks 
like  a  gentleman,  but  he  seems  to  watch  us. 

[Enter  LORD  GREENOCK,  with  his  cape  pushed  up  over 
the  lower  part  of  his  face  and  his  hat  pulled  down  to 
conceal  his  eyes.     He  is  partly  intoxicated.} 
MACKAY.     So  ho !  sir,  good-even  to  ye !    You  are  late 
abroad  to-night! 

GREENOCK.    At  your  service,  sir. 
MACKAY.     For  King  or  for  Covenant,  sir? 
GREENOCK.     Tush!  that's  an  old-fashioned  test.     You 
should    have    asked    (Whispering.)     for    James    II    or 
William  of  Orange. 

MACKAY.    Hush !  my  Lord  Greenock ! 
GREENOCK.    Right,  by  Jove! 

MACKAY.    By  my  body,  it  seems  strange  to  see  a  Privy 

Councillor  of  His  Majesty  roving  about  like  a  night-hawk. 

GREENOCK.     I  am  the  best  judge  of  my  own  actions. 

MACKAY.     (Proudly).     Your  business,  my  lord? 

GREENOCK.    You  will  take  particular  care  of  the  young 

lady — bosh — I  mean  the  old  one.    They  must  not  escape, 


16  THREE    PLAYS 

or  you  shall  answer  to  the  Council.     Comprenez-vous  ? 
The  young  lady  of  Maxwelton? 

MACKAY.  Too  well,  my  lord.  (LORD  GREENOCK  exit 
Right.  MACKAY  joins  ROBERT). 

MACKAY.  Curse  the  libertine!  Will  he  make  me  his 
cat's  paw  ?  By  Heavens !  He  deserves  a  slash  on  the 
helmet  for  casting  his  eyes  on  a  noble  lady  as  he  would 
on  a  bona  roba.  (To  SERGEANT.)  Sergeant,  surround 
the  house. 

[Soldiers  are  placed  by  Weymss.~\ 

SERGEANT.  (Speaking  in  a  loud  whisper.)  Attention! 
No.  i.  You  stand  guard  here.  Remainder,  Left  Turn, 
March ! 

[Exit  Left  behind  dinning  room.} 

ROBERT.  What  said  he,  MacKay?  Did  he  speak  of 
Mistress  Laurie? 

MACKAY.  Yes,  and  to  this  purpose:  that  on  the  peril 
of  our  beards,  the  ladies  must  not  escape — especially  the 
fair  Annie.  He  is  a  deep  intriguer,  and  the  devil  only 
knows  what  he  is  hatching  against  the  girl. 

ROBERT.  'Sdeath,  assure  me  of  this,  and  I  will  follow 
him,  and  brain  him  with  my  pike. 

MACKAY.  ( Catching  him  by  left  arm. )  Hush !  Hush ! 
lad,  these  words  are  dangerous.  You  are  still  a  young 
soldier.  (Laughs).  Had  you  trailed  a  pike  under  Henry 
de  la  Tour  or  old  Marshal  Crecy,  like  me,  you  would  have 
learnt  to  value  a  girl's  tears  and  a  granddam's  groans  at 
the  same  ransom.  But,  begad,  I  would  give  my  helmet 
full  of  gold  had  this  cursed  duty  fallen  on  someone  else. 
[Walks  up  center  and  off  Left.} 

LADY  MARY.     And  how  left  ye  our  friends? 

ICHABOD.  Well  and  strong,  my  Lady,  and  living  in 
hope  of  soon  striking  the  accursed  James. 

ANNIE.    Oh !  dear  me !    Are  we  to  see  more  bloodshed? 

ICHABOD.  Ay,  and  it  shall  flow  like  a  river,  until  the 
sins  of  the  idolaters  are  washed  away. 

ANNIE.    Why  can't  people  live  in  peace? 

ICHABOD.     There  shall  be  no  peace  while  the  scarlet 


ANNIE    LAURIE  17 

woman  is  in  ascendant.  Yea,  verily,  I  shall  soon  help  to 
smite  the  dogs  hip  and  thigh. 

ANNIE.  But,  reverend  sir,  your  mission  is  one  of  peace 
and  goodwill,  and  it  seems  ill-becoming  to  hear  words  of 
vengeance  from  one  of  your  cloth.  (The  pudding  is 
served  by  BUTLER.  Enter  ROBERT  and  MACKAY  as  before.) 

ROBERT.  Eh,  MacKay,  you  were  not  wont  to  be 
backward ! 

MACKAY.      Never  when  bullets  or  blades  are  to  be 

encountered!     But  to  worry  a  crazy  old  preacher,  and 

harry  the  house  and  barony  of  an  ancient  and  honourable 

lady — by  all  the  devils,  it  is  not  work  for  men  of  honour. 

[Both  come  down,  ROBERT  Left  of  MACKAY.] 

ROBERT.  And  Mistress  Annie  is  a  close  friend  and 
gossip  of  your  fiancee,  Mistress  Lovat. 

MACKAY.  Tis  true!  And  my  fairy  Hilda,  will  give 
me  many  a  tongue-wagging  for  this  night's  work. 

ROBERT.  (Bitterly.)  Well,  I  have  that  advantage  over 
you,  MacKay,  in  that  I  am  homeless  and  friendless — a 
nameless  volunteer,  uncaring  and  uncared  for. 

MACKAY.    Don't  get  a  fit  of  the  blues,  old  man. 

ROBERT.     I  have  trailed  this  pike  for  five  years. 

MACKAY.  Yes,  and  promotion  seems  to  have  over 
looked  you,  although  you  have  fought  well  and  bled  too. 
But,  cheer  up!  If  this  rascal  of  Orange  unfurls  his 
banner  among  us,  we  shall  have  fighting — ay,  faith,  to 
which  the  race  of  Dunbar  and  the  sack  of  Dundee  will 
be  deemed  child's  play.  And,  hark!  my  boy.  I  trailed 
a  pike  for  four  long  years  under  Turin  on  many  a  bloody 
field  ere  I  obtained  my  colors  and  then  I  thought  my 
fortune  was  made — but  I  am  still  a  poor  lieutenant. 

ROBERT.  But  your  commission  gives  you  rank  and 
standing,  and  enables  you  to  meet  the  girl  you  love  on  an 
equal  footing. 

MACKAY.     Art  in  love,  Robert,  lad?     I  knew  it  not. 

ROBERT.  Yes,  years  ago,  when  I  was  page  to  the  fair 
and  good  Countess  Dumbarton,  I  played  at  children's 
games  with,  and  lost  my  heart  to,  a  girl  of  high  degree, 


i8  THREE    PLAYS 

who  is  now  a  toast  in  camp  and  Court.  She  is  a  fitting 
mate  for  the  highest  in  the  land — while  I  am  a  poor, 
private  soldier. 

[Cross  Right,  sits  on  stump  of  tree.~\ 

MACK  AY.  (With  foot  on  seat.)  Well,  you  will  need 
to  harden  your  heart  to-night,  my  lad,  for  if  aught  in 
Scotland  will  make  a  man  swerve  from  his  duty,  it  is  the 
flashing  eye  and  ruddy  lip  of  fair  Annie  Laurie.  The 
beauty  "of  her  person  is  equalled  only  by  the  winning 
grace  of  her  manner.  Hast  seen  her,  lad? 

ROBERT.     (With  vivacity.)     A  thousand  times! 

MACKAY.    And  spoken  to  her? 

ROBERT.  Alas  !  no : — at  least  not  these  five  years  since 
I  left  the  service  of  the  Countess. 

ICHABOD.  (Who  has  been  eating  voraciously.)  This 
food  seems  very  good.  Can  I  have  some  more?  (Helps 
himself  largely.)  The  sauce  is  of  a  new  kind,  but  it  tastes 
exceedingly  good,  and  has  a  bite  and  flavor  which  pleases 
my  palate. 

[He  eats  voraciously,   and  spoons   the   brandy  from 
his  plate.  ] 

MACKAY.  If  we  find  these  Dutch  renegades,  it  will  go 
hard  with  the  ladies,  as  they  are  already  under  suspicion, 
and  the  Government  is  thoroughly  scared  by  the  number 
of  plots  which  are  unearthed  every  day. 

ROBERT.  (Rises.)  What,  in  Heaven's  name,  can 
prompt  ladies  of  honour  to  meddle  in  matters  of  Kirk 
or  State?. 

MACKAY.  The  great  father  of  confusion !  But  I  shall 
be  sorry  to  exact  marching-money  and  free  quarters  from 
old  Lady  Mary. 

ROBERT.     But  what  is  the  exact  accusation? 

MACKAY.  Lord  Greenock  alleges  that  her  Ladyship 
knows  of  an  intended  invasion  from  Holland,  and  that 
she  harbours  an  emissary  from  that  country. 

ROBERT.  (Passionately.)  There  are  rascals  at  the 
Council  board  who  more  richly  deserve  the  rope  of  the 
provost  marshal,  and  Lord  Green — 


ANNIE    LAURIE  19 

MACKAY.  Hush!  If  the  soldiers  overhear,  you  are 
a  lost  man. 

ROBERT.  God  save  King  James,  say  I,  but  to  the  devil 
with  the  Council,  which  is  driving  the  country  to  ruin 
at  full  galop. 

ICHABOD.  Ah!  this  good  food  warms  my  heart,  and 
think  me  not  greedy  if  I  take  some  more. 

[Helps  himself  again,  and  lifts  the  dish  up,  so  that  the 
brandy  is  drained  upon  his  plate.] 

BUTLER.  (Up  left,  to  MAID.)  Ay,  lassie,  look  at 
him;  he's  not  so  daft  as  I  thoucht  he  was. 

MAID.     If  he  takes  any  more,  he'll  be  drunk  as  a  loon. 

MACKAY.  Hush!  here  comes  the  rascally  macer. 
(Enter  Macer  Right.)  Fellow,  why  did  you  not  meet 
us  as  arranged? 

TAMMY.  Troth,  sir,  it's  an  unpleasasnt  job,  this,  and 
like  to  get  a  man  into  trouble  these  uncanny  times;  and 
as  I  need  a  little  strength,  I  stayed  a  little  while  to  sample 
the  ale  at  Lucky  Creep's  house.  But  the  game  is  in  the 
cover,  and  we'll  catch  the  traitor  at  Madam's  fireside. 

ICHABOD.  (Finishing  his  food.)  Ay,  now,  I  feel  like 
a  man  inspired.  Show  me  the  bloody  and  papistical 
James,  and  I'll  tear  his  head  from  his  body. 

[Bangs  his  fist  on  the  table,  and  sweeps  his  plate  to  the 
floor.  All  rise.] 

TAMMY.  (All  outside  except  TAMMY  go  up  stage.) 
Hark!  what  was  that?  (TAMMY  crosses  to  door  and 
peeps  through  keyhole  of  door  to  house.) 

ICHABOD.     My  word,  but  that  puddin'  tasted  weel. 

[He  rises  and  takes  the  best  chair  near  the  fire.  Ser 
vants  clear  the  table.  Outside  TAMMY  glues  his  ear 
to  the  keyhole.} 

TAMMY.  (At  door  of  house.)  If  we  delay  a  whilie, 
we  may  discover  more  of  this  plot  than  we  yet  know. 
Behold  the  godly  Master  Ichabod  sitting  in  the  cosiest 
nuik.  And  isn't  he  as  gallous  a  looking  buckie  as  ever 
skirled  a  psalm  in  the  muirlands? 


20  THREE    PLAYS 

ROBERT.     Silence!  wretch,  or  I'll  trounce  thee. 

[ROBERT  approaches  and  peeps  through  the  window  and 
sees  LADY  MARY  putting  a  cushion  behind  ICHABOD'S 
head.  ] 

ICHABOD.     (At  fire  singing.) 

I  hear  a  voice  from  Heaven, 
Commanding  me  to  sing, 
Go  forth  and  lead  the  godly  host 
Against  the  bluidy  King. 

LADY  MARY.  Great  Heavens !  the  man  is  drunk ;  he 
will  bring  the  patrol  down  on  the  house.  (ANNIE  crosses 
and  places  a  footstool  for  ICHABOD.) 

ROBERT.  (Goes  back.)  Damn  the  fellow!  Let  us 
break  in  at  once,  MacKay,  and  end  the  business. 

TAMMY.  (At  door.)  Patience,  good  sir.  In  a  little 
while  I  will  have  evidence  enough  to  send  the  whole  brood 
to  the  torture. 

[ROBERT  grasps  TAMMY  by  the  collar,  and  throws  him 
across  the  stage.  ] 

ROBERT.  Stay  there,  wretch,  until  you  are  asked  for 
your  warrant. 

TAMMY.  (Rubbing  his  hands.)  Oh,  ho,  my  fine 
buckie,  you  crow  brawly  for  the  spawn  of  an  old  Cov 
enanter — brawly  indeed.  But,  maybe,  I'll  hae  ye  under 
my  hands  yet  for  your  bravery  and  fine  gewgaws. 

ICHABOD.  (At  fire.)  Maiden,  will  ye  not  accompany 
me  on  your  spinnet  in  the  most  godly  words  of  the 
psalms  ? 

ANNIE.  (In  front  of  table.)  Think  of  the  danger  of 
being  overheard,  Mr.  Bounce. 

LADY  MARY.  Yes,  indeed,  the  singing  of  the  Psalms 
may  cost  ye  your  head. 

ANNIE.  I  will  sing  you  my  new  song,  "The  Harp  of 
the  North." 

ICHABOD.  (Rising.)  Name  it  not,  maiden,  thy  pro 
fane  songs  are  an  abomination  in  mine  ear.  (ANNIE 
laughs  merrily.)  Fair  as  ye  are  to  look  upon,  maiden, 
and  innocent  withal,  I  fear  me  that  ye  are  one  of  the 


ANNIE    LAURIE  21 

backsliders  of  this  sinful  generation.  "The  Harp  of 
the  North,"  did  ye  say?  Know  ye  that  there  is  no  harp, 
save  the  Harp  of  Zion,  which  is  a  lyre  of  treble-refined 
gold?  What  sayeth  the  sacred  Writ?  Is  any  among  ye 
afflicted?  Let  him  pray.  Is  any  merry?  Let  him  sing 
Psalms.  (Drops  back  in  chair.) 

ANNIE.     I  fear  me  it  would  be  but  sad  merriment. 

LADY  MARY.     (Comes  forward.)     Peace,  Annie! 

ANNIE.  Mr.  Bounce's  point  of  view  and  mine  are  as 
different  as  our  natures.  I  sing  and  dance,  because  my 
heart  beats  merrily  with  the  joy  of  living,  and  everything 
in  nature  seems  blessed.  I  am  sure  Mr.  Bounce  must  be 
nursing  a  secret  pain  either  in  body  or  mind. 
ICHABOD.  (Rising,  coming  Left.)  Maiden,  when  thou 
hast  perused  my  forthcoming  book  thou  shalt  see  there 
in  words  of  fire  the  Great  and  Narrow  Way  contrasted 
with  the  Broad  and  Dangerous  Path  that  leadeth  to  the 
Sea  of  Flame.  And  that  the  man  of  sin,  the  Anti-Christ, 
which  is  the  bloody  James  Stuart. 

[Here  a  dog  barks  loudly  inside,  and  ICHABOD'S  voice 
dies  away,  and  he  shows  signs  of  fear.] 

MACKAY.  Damn  that  dog.  Our  fellows  must  have 
stirred  him  up. 

ANNIE.     There's  somebody  trespassing  outside. 

ICHABOD.     Perhaps  the  patrol. 

ANNIE.     No,  no — a  poacher  perhaps. 

LADY  MARY.  The  dog  howls  eerily!  God  save  us, 
that  foretells  Death.  And  far-seeing  folk  say  that  dumb 
brutes  can  see  the  reaper  enter  the  house  when  a  soul  is 
going  to  depart. 

ICHABOD.  As  I  was  saying,  I  will  show  thee  that  the 
blessing  of  Heaven  will  descend  on  the  men  of  the 
Covenant. 

LADY  MARY.     Yea,  and  upon  their  children. 

ICHABOD.     Even  unto  the  third  and  fourth  generation. 

LADY  MARY.  My  honored  husband  was  as  true  a 
cavalier  as  ever  wore  buff,  but  some  of  my  nearest  have 


22  THREE    PLAYS 

fought  with  the  Covenanters,  and  I  can  think  kindly  of 
both. 

ANNIE.     But  if  our  good  King  should  permit — 

ICHABOD.  (Jumping  up  from  his  chair  and  speaking 
in  a  shrill,  angry  voice.)  Maiden,  mean  ye  the  bloody 
and  papistical  Duke  James,  who  contrary  to  the  law  has 
usurped  the  throne?  That  throne,  from  which  justice 
hath  debarred  him!  That  throne,  from  the  steps  of 
which  the  blood  of  God's  children,  the  saints  of  our 
oppressed  and  martyred  Kirk,  rolls  down,  and  deluges 
the  land!  Hark  ye!  it  is  written,  that  the  hour  cometh, 
when  they  shall  perish.  On  one  hand,  we  have  the  power 
of  the  horned  beast  that  sitteth  on  seven  hills,  and  her 
best  beloved  son,  James,  with  his  thumbscrews,  his  iron 
boots  and  his  gory  mane,  supported  by  the  savage 
Amorites  from  the  Highlands,  who  go  bare-legged  to 
battle,  the  soldiers  of  Dumbarton,  the  troopers  of  Clav- 
ersee.  In  England,  the  Lambs  of  Kirke,  and  gallows  of 
the  butcher — Jeffreys — a  sea  of  blood,  of  darkness,  death 
and  horror.  But  lo !  on  the  other  hand,  behold  the  dawn 
of  the  morn  of  peace,  of  love,  of  mercy,  when  the  exile 
shall  be  restored  to  his  hearth,  and  the  doomed  snatched 
from  the  scaffold.  For  the  day  dawneth  when  the 
saviour  shall  approach — and  our  saviour  will  be  William 
of  Orange. 

[During  this  tirade  LADY  MARY  shows  signs  of  great 
uneasiness  and  terror.  ANNIE  smiles,  amused,  while 
on  the  outside  the  macer  rubs  his  hands  in  glee.] 

MACKAY.  (Left  near  door  outside,  to  ROBERT.)  You 
have  heard  this  tirade  of  treason  and  folly? 

TAMMY.  Damn  me,  it  is  enough  to  hang,  draw,  and 
quarter  a  whole  parish. 

MACKAY.  Soldiers,  look  well  that  none  escape  by  the 
windows.  You,  sergeant,  knock  at  the  door. 

[SERGEANT  bangs  the  door  with  his  halberd.  LADY 
MARY  runs  about  as  if  looking  for  means  of  escape. 
ICHABOD  staggers  about  and  gets  under  table.] 

ICHABOD.     Oh,  wae  is  me,  the  Philistines  are  upon  me. 


ANNIE    LAURIE  23 

SERGEANT.  (Outside  door.)  We  are  Pontius  Pilate's 
guards,  old  croaker. 

ANNIE.  (Opens  a  shutter  and  peers  out.)  Soldiers! 
Soldiers !  Oh !  Aunt  Mary,  we  are  ruined  and  disgraced 
forever. 

[LADY  MARY  puts  the  light  out,  and  ANNIE  closes  the 
shutters.  The  butler,  who  is  the  only  male  attendant 
in  the  house,  enters.  ICHABOD  is  pushed  into  a  secret 
panel  in  the  wall  by  ANNIE,  and  she  and  LADY  MARY 
leave  the  room.] 

BUTLER.  (Making  a  bluff  at  door.)  Close  up  there, 
my  men,  and  guard  all  the  windows.  Should  anyone  dare 
approach,  fire.  (To  the  soldiers.)  Who  are  ye,  without 
there,  who  disturb  the  peace  of  my  lady  at  this  hour? 
Gang  awa,  or  it  will  be  the  waur  for  ye. 

SERGEANT.  (Outside.)  Open,  rascals,  or  we  will  set 
the  four  corners  of  the  house  on  fire. 

BUTLER.  (At  door.)  Doubtless,  my  bold  buckie,  but 
the  walls  are  thick,  and  the  windows  well-grated,  and  we 
gave  a  stronger  band  of  Cromwell's  Puritans  their 
stomach- full  in  the  year  1650. 

MACKAY.  Open,  varlet,  and  waste  not  our  time.  We 
are  soldiers  of  the  King,  and  have  a  warrant  of  search 
from  the  Council. 

BUTLER.  Noo,  ye  loons,we'll  gie  ye  a  taste  of  Crom 
well's  days,  if  ye  dinna  mak'  scarce  in  five  minutes. 
Lads,  take  the  plugs  from  the  loop-holes,  and  burn  a  light 
in  the  north  tower,  and  we'll  hae  a'  the  lads  in  the  barony 
round  the  ears  of  these  loons  in  a  few  minutes. 

[Enter  ANNIE.] 

ANNIE.     Tis  useless,  John,  withdraw  the  bolt. 
[  BUTLER  opens  door,  and  MACKAY  enters,  backed  up 
by  ROBERT.     SERGEANT  WEYMSS   and   the  soldiers 
appear  in  the  background.     Enter  maid  with  lighted 
candle.  ] 

ANNIE.  (Haughtily.)  Good  keep  us,  MacKay — and 
you  Master  Reid,  and  what  way  is  this  to  approach  the 
house  of  Maxwelton? 


24  THREE    PLAYS 

ROBERT.     Tis  a  most  unpleasant  duty,  Mistress  Annie. 

MACKAY.  We  have  information  that  you  conceal  a 
spy  from  Holland. 

ANNIE.     Your  information  is  false. 

MACKAY.  (Haughtily.)  Enough,  Mistress  Annie. 
I  will  spare  you  the  trouble  of  making  assertions  which 
the  laws  of  hospitality  require,  but  which  must  be 
humiliating  to  you  as  well  as  to  me.  Macer,  guard  the 
door.  Sergeant,  search  the  house  from  roof  to  cellar, 
and  cut  down  all  who  interfere  with  you.  But  on  your 
lives,  no  plunder. 

[SERGEANT,  followed  by  soldiers,  rushes  past  ANNIE  to 
the  door,  the  BUTLER  and  MAID  flying  before  them. 
ANNIE  stands  in  a  corner,  looking  scornfully. 
ROBERT  and  MACKAY  appear  somewhat  ashamed. 
MACKAY  walks  to  the  buffet,  and  fills  a  cup  of  wine, 
which  he  drinks,  uninvited,  to  ANNIE'S  health.} 

ROBERT.  Mistress  Laurie,  surrender  this  guilty  and 
foolish  man,  and  you  may  avert  the  wrath  of  the  already- 
incensed  Council. 

ANNIE.  Never,  sir,  will  we  be  guilty  of  such  a  breach 
of  hospitality  and  honor.  You  may  hew  me  to  pieces 
with  your  swords  but  never  would  I  yield  a  fugitive  to 
the  tortures  of  that  infamous  Council. 

ROBERT.  Beware,  lest  our  soldiers,  or  that  dog,  the 
macer,  overhear  you.  . 

ANNIE.  Keep  your  fears  and  sympathies  for  those 
that  like  them.  (She  goes  out.) 

MACKAY.  (Goes  to  sideboard  and  takes  glass  of  wine. ) 
Glorious  wine,  this ! 

ROBERT.  This  dirty  work  makes  me  ashamed  of  my 
uniform.  (Enter  LADY  MARY  Left.) 

LADY  MARY.  Oh,  God!  my  sorrow  is  hard  to  bear. 
I  have  seen  my  brave  husband  and  my  three  bonnie  bairns 
ride  off  to  battle  and  death,  and  save  Annie  Laurie,  my 
sister's  grandchild,  there  is  none  of  my  blood  left  in  the 


ANNIE    LAURIE  25 

world.     But  this  disgrace  and  sorrow  are  harder  to  bear 
than  all  that  has  gone  before. 

[She  breaks  down  and  cries.     ROBERT  and  MACKAY 

appear  to  be  touched  by  her  sorrow.] 
ROBERT.     Well,  Madam,  perhaps  our  soldiers  may  not 
find  the  gommeral  after  all. 

[A  loud  sneeze  is  heard  from  ICHABOD.  ] 
ICHABOD.      (A    muffled    voice.)     Let    me    out    or    I 
smother.     (Then  the  voice  is  heard  singing.) 

I  hear  a  voice  from  Heaven 
Commanding  me  to  sing; 
Go  forth  and  lead  the  godly  host 
Against  the  bluidy  King. 

[ROBERT  and  MACKAY  burst  into  laughter.] 
LADY  MARY.     Oh !  ye  f ule  man,  ye  have  ruined  the 
house  of  Maxwelton,  and  yourself. 

ROBERT.  Where  the  devil  is  he?  There  must  be  some 
panel  about. 

[He  knocks  the  wainscoting  with  the  pummel  of  his 

sword.     Enter  TAMMY.] 

TAMMY.  He's  not  very  far  off,  I'll  wager.  I'll  haul 
him  out  in  a  minute. 

ROBERT.  Then  do  so,  knave.  But,  first,  doff  your  hat 
in  the  presence  of  Lady  Mary.  (He  knocks  off  TAMMY'S 
hat.) 

TAMMY.     There's  something  queer  about  this  panel. 
[He  approaches  the  wall,  and  after  feeling  about  for  a 
little,  he  presses  a  spring,  and  the  panel  flies  open. 
He  drags  out  the  preacher,  whose  face  is  black  with 
dust,  and  who  looks  terrified.     Enter  SERGEANT  and 
soldiers  Left.     They  take  ICHABOD  Right.] 
ROBERT.     Dolt  and  fool!     What  tempted  you  to  rant 
while  we  were  within  earshot? 

MACKAY.  The  varlet  must  be  mad !  Dost  think  we'll 
eat  thee,  fellow? 

ROBERT.     Mad !     I  hope  so  for  the  sake  of  the  ladies. 
MACKAY.     And  for  the  marrow  in  his  bones ! 


26  THREE    PLAYS 

TAMMY.  (Soldiers  take  ICHABOD.)  Come  awa,  me 
buckle.  Use  your  shanks  while  the  ungodly  Philistines 
will  let  you.  You'll  not  walk  so  well  after  you  have  tried 
the  maiden's  boot  in  the  torture  room. 

ICHABOD.  From  these  sons  of  blood,  good  Lord, 
deliver  me.  Ye  devouring  wolves,  I  demand  your 
warrant ! 

MACKAY.     Macer,  your  warrant! 

TAMMY.  (Produces  paper.  Reads.}  "I,  Tammy 
Robertson,  Macer  to  the  Privy  Council,  by  virtue  of  and 
conform  to  the  law,  summon  you,  the  Reverend  Henry, 
otherwise  Ichabod  Bounce" — is  that  right? 

ICHABOD.  Yes,  that's  enough.  I  was  so  named  by  my 
parents — Henry,  a  heathenish  name,  which  in  an  hour 
of  light,  I  changed  to  Ichabod,  which  signifies  in  the 
Hebrew  tongue,  "Where  is  glory." 

TAMMY.     Ne'er  mind  the  Hebrew. 

ICHABOD.  Fie  upon  ye — abjurers  of  God,  and  perse 
cutors  of  the  Covenanted  Kirk. 

ROBERT.     Away  with  him! 

ICHABOD.  Truly,  ye  are  properly  clad  in  scarlet  for 
it  is  the  garb — 

ROBERT.     Silence ! 

ICHABOD.     Of  your  Babylonian  mother! 

MACKAY.     Peace ! 

SERGEANT.     On  with  the  gyves,  and  away  with  him. 

[He  is  handcuffed  and  dragged  outside  singing  Psalms, 
etc.  LADY  MARY  is  about  to  speak  to  him  as  he  is 
dragged  out.  TAMMY  and  soldiers  follow  SERGEANT 
to  the  door,  also  MACKAY.] 

ROBERT.  Pardon  me,  Lady  Mary,  by  addressing  him, 
you  will  only  compromise  your  own  safety  and  honor. 

MACKAY.  (Near  door.)  Madam,  I  am  compelled  to 
inform  you  that  your  whole  family  and  servants  are  my 
prisoners.  (Crossing  to  center  outside.) 

LADY  MARY.  (Has  been  pacing  back  and  forth  to  fire.) 
Alas!  there  is  only  my  little  grand-niece! 

MACKAY.     (From  door.)     Sergeant,  you  will  remain 


ANNIE    LAURIE  27 

in  charge  with  half  the  men;  I  will  leave  Mr.  Reid  with 
you. 

[Exit  and  marches  off  half  the  soldiers  with  ICHABOD. 

Off  Right  ICHABOD  is  singing  "I  hear  a  Voice,"  etc.] 

SERGEANT.     (Outside.)     You   will   keep   the   post   of 

honor,  Robert,  my  lad,  until  I  relieve  you — and  beware 

of  the  women. 

ROBERT.  I  will  do  my  duty.  Lady  Mary,  you  and 
Mistress  Laurie  will  please  remain  in  that  room.  (Exit 
LADY  MARY.) 

SERGEANT.  (To  BUTLER,  who  enters.)  Varlet,  rouse 
your  lazy  fellows,  and  bring  the  best  in  your  larder  to  my 
brave  lads,  on  the  lawn ;  and  don't  forget  some  good  wine, 
and  a  bucket  of  good  October. 

[Exit  SERGEANT,  who  posts  several  sentries.  Food  and 
drink  are  brought,  and  the  soldiers  feast  and  make 
merry,  and  before  long,  all  show  signs  of  intoxica 
tion.  Music:  "Annie  Laurie"  p.  p.  until  LADY  MARY 
enters.  ] 

SERGEANT.  (To  soldier.)  Grant,  my  lad — you  will 
keep  post  from  the  door  around  to  the  old  moat  at  the 
other  side  of  the  house.  Let  no  one  pass  in  or  out  with 
out  the  countersign,  which  is  Greenock. 

[Exit  soldier  and  SERGEANT.] 

ROBERT.  What  a  dog's  duty  is  this,  watching  two 
helpless  ladies,  for  one  of  whom  I  would  give  my  life. 
Oh!  sweet  Mistress  Annie,  will  the  gulf  of  rank  and 
wealth  that  separates  us  ever  be  bridged  so  that  I  can 
approach  you  as  a  friend  ? 

[ANNIE  peeps  out  from  door.  Enter  BUTLER  from 
Left  with  food  and  drink  for  soldiers.  Crosses 
through  door  and  exit  Right.} 

ANNIE.  (Comes  to  table.)  Oh,  I  am  so  pleased  that 
it  is  you,  Robert! 

ROBERT.  (Joyfully.  Comes  around  end  of  table.) 
You  have  forgiven  me? 

ANNIE.  Forgiven?  Yes,  indeed,  how  could  I  remain 
angry  with  the  playfellow  of  my  youth,  with  whom  I  have 


28  THREE    PLAYS 

spent  so  many  happy  hours.     But  what  a  dreadful  night 
this  has  been  for  all  of  us! 

ROBERT.  Need  I  say,  Mistress  Annie,  that  it  has  been 
a  night  of  mortification  for  me?  But  what  can  a  poor 
soldier  do  but  obey? 

ANNIE.  It  is  so  different  from  our  last  meeting. 
(Sits  in  chair  front  of  table.) 

ROBERT.     Ah,  yes!     Do  you  remember  it? 

ANNIE.     In  the  rose-garden. 

ROBERT.     Ah,  I  can  even  now  recall  the  heavenly  odor. 

ANNIE.  And  the  fountain  of  Venus  sending  its  spray 
sparkling  in  the  sunlight. 

ROBERT.     And  you  gave  me  the  prettiest  rosebud. 

ANNIE.     How  nice  of  you  to  remember. 

ROBERT.  (Leaning  over  chair.)  While  memory  lasts, 
I  will  never  forget. 

ANNIE.  And  you  gave  me  the  rosette  you  had  won  at 
the  fencing  tournament. 

ROBERT.     The  Queen  herself  pinned  it  on  my  breast. 

ANNIE.     (Rises.)     And  yet  you  gave  it  to  me. 

ROBERT.     As  I  would  have  given  my  life — my  soul. 

ANNIE.     I  have  it  yet. 

ROBERT.     And  I  the  rose.     It  has  never  left  me.     See 
—it  is  in  the  little  bag  hanging  by  a  ribbon  round  my  neck 
[LADY  MARY  calls  out  "Annie"  and  enters.] 

ANNIE.     (Crosses  to  fire.)     Hush,  here  is  Aunt  Mary  ! 
[ROBERT  bows  gracefully  to  LADY  MARY.] 

LADY  MARY.  Young  man,  for  a  soldier,  you  seem 
good  and  gentle.  Have  you  a  mother  who  is  dear  to  you, 
a  sister  whom  you  love? 

ROBERT.  Nor  mother,  nor  sister,  nor  kindred  have  I. 
Alas !  I  am  the  first — perhaps  the  last  of  my  race.  But 
what  would  your  Ladyship  with  Robert  Reid? 

LADY  MARY.  Ha!  you  are  one  of  the  Reids  of  that 
ilk?  They  are  dear  friends  of  mine. 

ROBERT.  No  relation!  I  am  simply  Robert  Reid,  a 
Scottish  volunteer,  and  of  no  family  whatever.  But  how 
can  I  serve  you? 


ANNIE    LAURIE  29 

LADY  MARY.  (Comes  close  to  him.)  How  can  I 
speak  it?  That  you  will  sleep  on  your  post,  and  permit 
this  poor  child— you  understand?  Oh!  I  will  nobly 
reward  you,  and  the  deed  will  be  registered  in  Heaven. 

ANNIE.  (Tearfully.)  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  beg  not  such 
a  boon  for  me,  and  at  such  a  sacrifice. 

ROBERT.  You  would  counsel  me  to  my  ruin,  Lady 
Mary!  Is  it  generous  or  noble,  when  I  am  but  a  poor 
soldier?  (LADY  MARY  takes  out  her  purse,  and  makes 
an  effort  to  count  out  some  gold.)  Seek  not  to  corrupt 
me,  madam,  for  all  I  posssess  is  my  honor.  And  yet,  for 
Annie  Laurie,  I  would  dare  much. 

LADY  MARY.  (Angrily.)  How  is  this,  sir?  You 
know  my  kinswoman?  And  by  that  glance  ye  seem  to 
have  met  before.  (Goes  to  ANNIE.)  Speak,  Annie, 
what  means  this? 

ANNIE.  (Confused.)  Oh,  Aunt!  I  have  known  him 
long. 

ROBERT.  I  have  had  the  honor  of  often  seeing  Mistress 
Annie  at  my  Lord  Dumbarton's. 

LADY  MARY.  (Turns  to  him.)  How's  this?  Are 
you  little  Reid? 

ROBERT.     My  Lady's  page,  Madam. 

LADY  MARY.  (Striking  the  floor  angrily  with  her 
cane.)  By  my  father's  bones,  I  never  thought  a  time 
would  come  when  I  should  beg  a  boon  in  vain — either 
from  a  Lord's  loon  or  a  lady's  page. 

[ROBERT  is  deeply  affected  and  hurt,  and  ANNIE  turns 
away  to  hide  her  tears.] 

ROBERT.  (Proudly.)  I  am  the  first  private  gentleman 
of  Dumbarton's  Musketeers,  and  I  am  so  unused  to  such 
language,  that  had  the  best  man  in  Scotland  spoken  those 
words,  I  would  take  his  measure  with  my  sword. 

LADY  MARY.  Your  spirit  is  admirable,  sir,  but  surely 
it  might  be  shown  in  better  cause  than  persecuting  help 
less  women. 

ROBERT.  Ah !  forgive  me,  Lady  Mary !  For  the  past 
five  years  I  have  been  more  used  to  the  rough  life  of  a 


30  THREE    PLAYS 

camp,  where  a  word  is  followed  by  a  blow,  than  to  the 
society  of  gentle  ladies.  But  my  honor  belongs  to  the 
King  of  Scotland,  whose  orders  I  must  obey. 

LADY  MARY.  Then,  gentle  sir,  be  generous  as  your 
bearing  is  noble,  and  permit  my  little  girl  to  escape.  Alas ! 
you  know  what  is  in  store  for  us,  if  we  are  dragged  before 
that  terrible  Council — fine,  imprisonment,  or  even  torture. 

ANNIE.  Or  banishment  into  slavery  in  Virginia. 
(She  bursts  into  tears.) 

ROBERT.  God  knows,  I  pity  you,  ladies,  and  would 
willingly  give  my  life  to  serve  you.  Retire  to  your  room. 
I  will  keep  my  post,  and  you  can  escape  through  the 
windows  at  the  back. 

ANNIE.  Alas !  they  are  grated  and  there  are  sentinels 
without.  (ROBERT  turns  away  a  moment.) 

LADY  MARY.  I  could  bear  the  thought  of  banishment, 
even  in  my  old  age,  and  the  thumbscrews  and  tortures  of 
the  Council,  and  the  thought  of  being  buried  far  from  my 
own  is  hard  to  bear — but  my  heart  bleeds  for  thee,  my 
dear  love,  Annie.  (Goes  to  ANNIE.) 

ROBERT.  Oh !  Madam,  they  cannot  be  such  villains 
as  to  harm  her — so  young — so  fair! 

LADY  MARY.  Worse  than  death  awaits  her!  Lord 
Greenock  rules  at  the  Council  Board.  Wretch !  wretch ! 
Too  well  I  know  that  it  is  for  worse  than  thumbscrews 
he  would  reserve  her.  (ROBERT  starts.) 

ROBERT.  Why  should  I  scruple?  MacKay  has 
already  hinted  to  me  of  Greenock — that  roue  and -ruffian 
who  disgraces  our  peerage. 

ANNIE.  Let  dear  Aunt  Mary  escape,  and,  good  Master 
Reid,  you  shall  have  my  prayers  and  gratitude  for  life. 

ROBERT.  Artless  Annie,  Greenock  aims  neither  at 
Lady  Mary's  liberty  nor  life.  He  is  a  villain,  and  you, 
sweet  maid,  have  many  things  to  fear.  Leave  me  to  my 
fate,  and  to  the  fury  of  the  Council. 

ANNIE.  Dear  Lord,  guide  us  in  our  trouble.  Oh! 
what  shall  we  do? 

LADY  MARY.     Let  me  offer  you' money. 


ANNIE    LAURIE  31 

ROBERT.  Lady  Mary,  I  have  risked  my  life  a  dozen 
times  in  a  worse  cause  than  yours,  and  for  a  few  shillings 
a  month ;  but  such  service  as  this,  is  not  to  be  paid  for  in 
money.  Lady  Mary,  permit  me  to  lead  you  forth. 

[He  draws  off  his  glove  and  offers  his  hand  to  the  old 

lady.  ] 

LADY  MARY.  You  have  quite  the  air  of  a  Cavalier. 
And  ere  we  go,  I  should  like  to  know  what  will  be  your 
punishment  for  this  breach  of  duty. 

ROBERT.  (Laughing  bitterly.)  A  few  days  in  the 
guard-house  on  hard  bread  and  sour  beer,  and  perhaps 
twenty- four  hours  guarding  in  full  marching  harness. 
(To  ANNIE.)  In  serving  you,  fair  Annie,  I  shall  be 
more  than  a  thousand  times  recompensed  for  any  penance 
I  may  perform. 

[The  soldiers  outside  make  a  noise  and  the  SERGEANT 

calls  out  for  the  relief  to  get  ready.  ] 
SERGEANT.     (Outside.)     Get  your  belt  on,  you  lazy 
loon.     You  must  relieve  Grant  for  an  hour,  so  that  he  can 
get  a  bite  and  a  drink. 

[He   enters   Right  with   soldiers.     The   sentry   enters 

from  Left.] 

SERGEANT.     Your  post  is  around  to  the  old  moat  and 

back.     Watch  the  windows  and  allow  no  one  inside  the 

lines  or  out  without  the  countersign,  which  is  Greenock. 

SOLDIER.     All  right,   Sergeant.     {Exit  SERGEANT  and 

GRANT.  ) 

[The  fugitives,  accompanied  by  RORERT,  hurry  to  the 
side  door,  LADY  MARY  with  a  long  cloak  on.     As 
they  exeunt,  a  challenge  is  heard.     ROBERT  takes  off 
his  long  military  cloak  and  hat,  and  puts  them  on 
ANNIE.     ROBERT  goes  outside  to  reconnoitre.     LADY 
MARY    and    ANNIE    follow    him.      Sentry    enters. 
ROBERT   pushes  the  ladies   back   through   the  door. 
The  sentry  challenges  ROBERT  from  outside.] 
SENTRY.     Halt !     Who  goes  there  ? 
ROBERT.     Friend. 
SENTRY.     Halt !  friend,  and  give  the  countersign. 


32  THREE    PLAYS 

ROBERT.     "Greenock." 

SENTRY.     Pass,  friend,  all's  well. 

[ROBERT  runs  down  quietly  to  the  door.] 

ANNIE.  (As  they  exeunt.)  Poor  Master  Reid!  I 
tremble  more  for  you  than  for  ourselves.  God  bless  you, 
until  we  meet  again. 

ROBERT.  (Enters  door  and  sits  on  chair  front  of  table. ) 
Till  we  meet  again !  Alas !  we  shall  never  meet  again  in 
this  life.  I  am  a  lost  man.  Tomorrow  the  Council 
Chamber,  the  thumbscrews,  and  the  boot.  These  poor 
legs  of  mine  will  be  crushed  till  the  marrow  is  pressed 
from  the  bones.  Alas !  thus  go  my  boyish  ambitions,  and 
the  airy  castles  I  have  so  often  built.  Ah !  Mistress 
Annie,  you  know  not  what  honored  place  I  have  made 
for  you  in  all  these  poor  castles.  Well,  it  is  done. 

[He  jumps  up,  and  resumes  his  march  before  the  door, 
as  the  SERGEANT  enters  with  HUB.,  who  takes 
ROBERT'S  post.  Both  SERGEANT  and  HUB.  show  the 
influence  of  wine.} 

SERGEANT.  (In  house.)  I  warrant  you'll  be  tired  of 
this  post  of  honor,  Master  Robert,  and  that  you  will  now 
enjoy  a  leg  of  devilled  turkey,  and  a  horn  of  good  Rhine 
wine. 

ROBERT.  I  thought  you  had  forgotten  me,  Weymss. 
(To  HUB.)  Have  a  care  sir,  that  you  do  not  disturb 
the  ladies;  they  are  entitled  to  their  rest.  Do  you  hear, 
turnip-head? 

HUB.  (Sleepily.)  Dod-rot  thee,  Master  Reid;  I  have 
clanked  my  boots  before  the  tent  of  the  King  of  France, 
and  ye  cannot  teach  me  how  to  watch  king  or  knave. 
Besides,  my  father  was  an  old  vassal  of  her  ladyship, 
and  I  have  more  respect  for  the  old  blood,  than  to  dragoon 
my  Lady  of  marching  money. 

ROBERT.     'Tis  well ! 

[Exeunt  ROBERT  and  SERGEANT.  HUB.  sits  down  in 
chair,  and  falls  asleep,  his  musket  falling  from  his 
lap  to  the  floor.  Outside,  the  SERGEANT  offers 
ROBERT  a  cup  of  wine.  Just  as  he  has  finished  the 


ANNIE    LAURIE  33 

wine  they  exit,  a  challenge  is  heard  and  the  macer 
enters  at  the  Right.] 

SENTRY.     (Off.)     Halt!     Who  goes  there? 
(  MACER.     ( Off. )     Friend. 

SENTRY.     Halt  and  give  the  countersign. 

MACER.     "Greenock." 

ROBERT.  I  thought  we  had  seen  the  last  of  your  ugly 
visage  for  tonight. 

TAMMY.  Roast  me,  I  am  not  here  by  choice!  Lord 
Greenock  is  so  anxious  for  the  safety  of  the  prisoners, 
that  he  waited  for  us  at  the  Tolbooth,  and  when  he  found 
that  the  ladies  were  not  with  us,  he  dispatched  me  at  once 
with  orders  to  bring  them  at  once  to  Edinburgh. 

SERGEANT.  (From  outside.)  I  feel  not  like  any  more 
marching  tonight,  but  needs  must  when  the  devil  drives. 
(He  enters,  and  crosses  to  door  of  house,  followed  by 
TAMMY,  and  seeing  HUB.  asleep  and  his  musket  on  the 
floor,  he  picks  it  up,  and  bangs  HUB.  on  the  legs  with  it.) 
Wake  up,  you  lazy  loon!  If  you  slept  on  post  like  this 
on  the  field  you  would  stop  a  volley  of  bullets  at  cock 
crow.  (HUB  jumps  up}  confused.} 

HUB.  Forgive  me,  Sergeant,  'tis  the  cursed  wine. 
(Music  marziale  and  presto.) 

SERGEANT.  All  right,  lad,  I'll  overlook  it  this  time. 
(Knocks  at  the  door  of  the  room  where  LADY  MARY  and 
ANNIE  had  retired.)  Rouse  up,  my  Ladies.  The  Coun 
cil  orders  you  to  Edinburgh  at  once.  Rouse  up. 
(Knocks  louder,  then  with  hilt  of  his  sword.)  Answer 
ye,  my  ladies,  or  I  break  the  door.  (Opens  door,  and 
enters  room  followed  by  MACER,  and  they  return  in  a 
moment  to  the  stage.)  The  birds  have  flown,  and  your 
life  will  be  forfeited,  my  boy. 

[ROBERT  crosses  and  watches  from  door.] 

TAMMY.  Ay,  forfeited,  and  every  nail  on  your  fingers 
and  toes  will  be  pulled  out  by  the  roots,  and  your  tongue 
will  be  cut  out  and  fed  to  the  corbies,  and  your  eyes  will 
be  plucked  out,  and  toasted  before  your  face.  That  will 
teach  you  to  keep  awake  on  your  post,  youbrawgommeral. 


34  THREE    PLAYS 

HUB.  (Confused  and  alarmed.)  I  swear  they  did  not 
pass  me  while  I  was  on  post. 

TAMMY.  Much  good  your  swearing  will  do,  when  the 
Sergeant  and  I  saw  you  asleep,  and  your  musket  on  the 
floor.  Oh !  you'll  have  a  picnic  tomorrow.  (Enter 
ROBERT.) 

HUB.  What  can  I  do  or  say?  Help  me,  Master 
Robert!  Oh!  would  to  God  that  I  had  been  piked  or 
shot  -in  the  field. 

[SERGEANT  starts  to  unbuckle  HUB/S  bandolier  and 
belt,  and  ROBERT  steps  forward.  ] 

ROBERT.  Let  him  be,  the  lad  is  innocent.  I  allowed 
the  ladies  to  escape,  and  will  take  whatever  punishment 
is  coming  to  me. 

HUB.  I  knew  it,  and  I  had  your  word,  Master  Robert. 
We  always  deemed  you  a  gentleman  of  honor,  although 
a  poor  soldier  like  the  rest  of  us. 

ROBERT.  The  generosity  of  my  purpose  must  be  my 
excuse  for  deceiving  you,  Hubert. 

TAMMY.  Eh!  But  what  will  my  Lord  Chancellor 
say?  (Aside.)  Now  I'll  see  you  squirming,  my  braw 
laddie.  (Rubs  his  hands  gleefully.) 

SERGEANT.     Or  Sir  Thomas  Dalziel,  or  Claversee? 

TAMMY.     Or  my  Lord  Greenock — he'll  be  crazy! 

SERGEANT.  Gook  and  gommeral,  boy,  what  devil  tempt 
ed  thee — but  why  need  I  ask  ?  Yon  gipsy's  blue  eyes  .  .  . 

ROBERT.     Hush ! 

SERGEANT.  .  .  .  had  thrown  a  glamour  over  thee. 
Wherever  woman  be,  there  will  mischief  bide.  What  a 
pumpkin-head  I  was  not  to  keep  watch  myself — a  girlie's 
tears  or  grandma's  greeting  woulna  hae  much  effect  on 
me.  Did  not  the  thocht  of  the  vengeance  of  the  Council 
prevent  ye  from  runnin'  your  head  into  the  lion's  mouth? 

ROBERT.  No,  Weymss,  I  did  as  my  heart  dictated, 
when  I  saw  women  in  danger. 

SERGEANT.  Had  they  been  twa  auld  witches,  with 
hairy  chins,  black,  broken  teeth,  and  hands  like  the  claws 
of  a  cat,  would  your  tender  heart  have  dictated  otherwise? 


ANNIE    LAURIE  35 

Huh,  when  next  I  set  a  handsome  young  lad  to  watch  a 
pretty  girl,  may  the  deil  split  me,  and  use  my  own  pike 
for  a  toasting  fork. 

TAMMY.  (To  ROBERT.)  And  I  hope  the  deil  will  do 
it  in  the  end  anyhow. 

[Approaches  ROBERT,  draws  the  latter' s  sword,  throws 
it  away,  and  is  about  to  handcuff  him  when  the 
SERGEANT  throws  him  aside.} 

SERGEANT.  Hands  off,  you  dog!  This  man  is  a  sol 
dier,  and  is  my  prisoner.  You'll  have  your  dirty  fingers 
on  him  soon  enough. 

CURTAIN 


36  THREE    PLAYS 


ACT  II. 

[The  dungeon,  evening,  a  week  later.  Scene  discloses  a 
dirty  and  gloomy  dungeon,  with  large  but  heavily 
grated  window  at  side.  Some  straw  is  thrown  on 
floor.  At  the  left  of  stage  is  shown  the  alley  on  the 
outside  of  the  prison.  ROBERT  is  sitting  dejectedly 
on  the  ground.  In  the  distance  ICHABOD  is  heard 
singing  and  praying.  Before  the  curtain  rises,  a 
voice  supposed  to  be  ROBERT'S  is  heard  singing  the 
song  (l Annie  Laurie."  ROBERT  throws  himself  on 
the  straw  and  tries  to  sleep.  Outside  MACER  is 
sitting  up  near  wall.  Enter  SERGEANT.  TAMMY 
turns  away  and  pulls  his  hat  over  his  eyes.  ] 

SERGEANT.     (Seeing  TAMMY.)     Hello — who's  this. 

MACER.     Your  friend,  Sergeant. 

SERGEANT.     What  are  you  doing  around  here? 

MACER.  Enjoying  the  air,  gossip.  But  away  wi  ye. 
Here's  my  Lord  Greenock  coming. 

[SERGEANT  exit.     Enter  GREENOCK.] 

GREENOCK.     Well,  Tammy,  any  news? 

MACER.  De'il  a  bit,  my  Lord.  I've  been  on  watch 
every  minute  since  sun  up,  either  inside  the  prison  or  out 
here. 

GREENOCK.     Doesn't  the  cursed  soldier  weaken? 

MACER.  Not  a  bit.  But  take  my  word  for  it,  the 
leddies  will  send  some  message  or  maybe  come  themselves 
to  see  him  and  then  we'll  have  them  in  a  trap. 

GREENOCK.  You  know  where  to  find  me.  Keep  a 
sharp  lookout.  (Exit.} 

MACER.  (Following  GREENOCK.)  All  right,  my 
Lord,  trust  me ! 

ICHABOD.  (In  the  distance.)  How  long,  O  Lord! 
wilt  thou  permit  these  dragons  to  devour  thy  chosen 
people?  Rejoice,  O  children  of  the  Covenant!  For  the 


ANNIE    LAURIE  37 

avenger  approaches.  William  of  Orange  will  render 
vengeance  on  the  enemies  of  the  Lord. 

[Sings,  "I  Hear  a  Voice  from  Heaven,"  etc.  Enter 
MACER  carrying  a  loaf  of  bread  and  a  jug  of  water.  ] 

MACER.  Shut-up.  Hoot,  it's  that  fule  body,  Bounce, 
blowing  like  a  piper  through  the  keyhole.  If  his  tongue 
had  been  bored  with  a  red  hot  bodkin,  he  wouldna  crow 
sae  loud.  Does  he  disturb  you,  soldier? 

ROBERT.  (Seated  on  stool.)  Disturb  me?  No! 
His  voice  is  a  welcome  sound  in  the  deadly  darkness  and 
silence  of  this  place. 

MACER.  Well,  he  ought  to  be  hanged.  It's  a  pity  to 
waste  good  food  and  liquor  on  him. 

ROBERT.  Is  there  not  a  single  touch  of  pity  in  your 
wretched  heart? 

MACER.  Yes,  pity  for  myself.  And  you'll  hae  your 
self  to  think  of  in  the  morning,  when  th'e  blacksmith'll 
be  down  to  rivet  a  broad  collar  of  steel  round  your  bonnie 
neck,  or  maybe  pull  your  tongue  out  by  the  roots. 

ROBERT.  Begone!  I've  heard  your  wretched  threats 
every  day  during  the  week  I've  been  here. 

MACER.  Weel,  I  think  it'll  come  true  tomorrow,  as 
the  soldier  councillors,  who  got  you  mercy,  are  leaving 
Edinburgh  for  the  field. 

ROBERT.     Begone!     And  leave  me  to  my  misery! 

MACER.  Noo,  me  braw  lad,  I'll  give  ye  a  piece  of 
advice  for  the  hundredth  time.  Tell  where  the  lass  is 
hidin',  and  that'll  save  your  life  anyhow. 

ROBERT.  (Cheerfully.)  Ah!  It's  cheerful  to  know 
that  they  escaped  you.  It  will  help  keep  me  from  despair 
for  another  day  to  know  that  my  darling  has  escaped 
their  villainous  hands. 

MACER.  Oh !  Braw  talk  is  cheap ;  but  my  Lord 
Greenock  is  like  a  hungry  wolf  on  the  scent;  and  even 
if  he'd  be  willing  to  let  the  girl  escape;  her  broad  acres 
are  too  tempting  a  bait  to  let  go  so  easily. 

ROBERT.  (Passionately.)  Oh!  How  can  I  retain  my 
reason  in  this  inactivity? 


38  THREE    PLAYS 

MACER.  My  Lord  will  get  her  anyhow;  and  if  ye're 
wise  ye'll  get  awa  wi'  yer  life  by  givin'  information  that 
will  please  his  Lordship. 

ROBERT.  (Rises.)  Begone,  fellow!  Or  I'll  lose  my 
temper. 

MACER.  Oh,  hoity-toity !  Temper  is  a  luxury  for  the 
likes  o'  ye !  What  are  ye  but  a  poor  soldier?  And,  sure, 
it's  uncommon  impudence  to  be  castin'  eyes  at  a  lady  of 
quality,  who  wouldn't  permit  you  to  tie  her  shoestring. 

ROBERT.  (Dejectedly  sits  down  again.)  Alas!  'Tis 
true!  Oh!  why  did  I  permit  myself  this  dream?  She 
has  entered  my  thoughts  and  my  heart,  until  even  my 
ambitions  have  lost  interest  and  are  forgotten. 

MACER.  Ah!  Now  ye're  talkin'.  I  have  heard  Lord 
Dumbarton  say  that  ye  were  the  best  soldier  in  his  regi 
ment,  and  would  mak'  a  braw  and  dashin'  officer  some 
day. 

ROBERT.  Ah !  My  Lord  Dumbarton  and  my  lady 
patron,  if  they  were  here,  they  would  advise  me  and  get 
me  out  of  this  predicament. 

MACER.  (Temptingly.)  And,  ye  know,  laddie,  that 
Lord  Greenock  is  powerful  with  the  King  and  Council, 
and  I  wunna  be  surprised  now,  if  ye  act  sensible  and 
crave  his  pardon,  and  tell  him  where  to  get  the  lass  and 
auld  lady,  that  he  will  get  ye  free,  and  e'en  get  ye  your 
commission  in  the  auld  regiment. 

ROBERT.  (Jumps  up,  grabs  the  macer  by  the  neck, 
and  shakes  him.)  You  hell-hound,  I'll  kill  you  if  you 
speak  the  lady's  name  again.  (Throws  him  to  Right.) 
Tell  Lord  Greenock  to  do  his  worst.  I  would  rather  seo 
Annie  Laurie  dead — and  die  myself,  even  by  the  torture — 
than  that  she  should  fall  into  the  clutches  of  such  a 
vampire. 

MACER.  (From  the  door.)  Weel,  goodbye,  I'll  bring 
the  blacksmith  with  me  in  the  mornin'.  (Exit.) 

ROBERT.  (Paces  up  and  down.)  Oh!  would  that  I 
could  die !  This  wretched  silence  and  filth  will  drive  me 
mad.  Had  my  dear  friend,  Lady  Dumbarton,  been  on 


ANNIE    LAURIE  39 

this  side  of  the  border,  I  would  not  have  been  thus  perse 
cuted  and  forgotten.  And  why  tarries  MacKay?  Hath 
my  friendship  no  claim  on  him  ?  Shame  cannot  keep  him 
away,  for  I  committed  no  crime.  (Pauses. )  Ah !  sweet 
Annie,  I  wonder  if  you  have  spared  a  thought  for  the 
poor  soldier  who  suffers  thus  for  love  of  you?  Can 
you  guess  that  you  are  never  out  of  my  thoughts?  And, 
after  all,  it  is  but  the  love  of  you  that  keeps  me  up !  And 
even  if  I  die,  or  am  sent  into  slavery,  I  may  hope  that 
some  kind  hand  will  deliver  these  verses  to  you  which  I 
have  written  and  have  sung  so  often  since  I  have  been 
in  this  vile  place. 

[He  sings  "Annie  Laurie."  As  he  sings  a  cavalier  and 
two  cloaked  ladies  come  down  the  alley,  and  listen 
outside  the  window. ] 

ANNIE.  (Rapturously.)  The  dear  fellow  sings  of 
me.  Ah!  how  he  must  have  suffered  in  this  dreadful 
place. 

MACKAY.  I  wish  I  had  a  company  of  my  brave  fel 
lows.  I  would  storm  the  wretched  hole  and  drag  him 
forth  into  God's  pure  air.  (As  ROBERT  finishes  the  songt 
MACKAY  climbs  on  a  rock,  which  he  has  dragged  under 
the  cell  window,  and  rattles  at  the  bars.  ANNIE  and 
HILDA  stand  together  at  left.)  Hullo,  Robert,  wake  up, 
my  lad.  (ROBERT  climbs  up  to  the  window  and  clasps 
his  friend's  hand  through  the  bars.  Standing  on  stool.) 
By  all  the  devils,  this  is  an  unpleasant  hour. 

ROBERT.  Not  so  bad,  now  that  I  know  that  you  have 
not  forgotten  me. 

MACKAY.  I  could  never  forget  a  friend  or  comrade, 
but  I  have  been  powerless  to  help  you. 

ROBERT.  But  are  there  not  tidings  of  Dumbarton,  our 
Commander  ? 

MACKAY.  The  devil,  no!  But  we  expect  him  every 
moment,  as  he  left  London  three  weeks  ago. 

HILDA.  (Pushing  MACKAY  aside.)  There  are  others 
who  have  not  forgotten  thee,  but  MacKay  seems  resolved 
to  talk  for  us  all, 


40  THREE    PLAYS 

MACKAY.  A  thousand  pardons,  my  fair  Hilda,  but  I 
had  almost — 

HILDA.  Almost  forgotten  me?  Do  you  dare  say  so! 
(Gets  up  on  rock.)  But,  oh!  my  poor  boy,  Reid,  I  am 
so  sorry  to  see  you  here. 

ROBERT.     I  thank  thee,  Mistress  Hilda,  but  the  honor 
of  this  visit  would  gild  the  darkest  prison  in  Scotland. 
[He  kisses  HILDA'S  hand.] 

HILDA.  (ANNIE  crosses  to  HILDA.)  And,  now, 
Master  Robert,  I  must  introduce  a  friend,  who  has  come 
to  thank  you  personally  for  your  bravery.  Gome,  love, 
approach  and  speak.  My  word  for  it,  how  the  lassie 
trembles.  (HILDA  helps  ANNIE  on  the  rock.)  Hold  her 
hand,  Robert  ,or  she  will  fall  from  this  unsteady  pedestal. 

[ROBERT  takes  her  hand,  and  MACKAY  and  HILDA  walk 
to  the  head  of  the  alley  to  keep  watch.  ANNIE 
throws  back  her  hood.] 

ROBERT.  (Kissing  ANNIE'S  hand.)  Ingrate  that  I 
was  to  repine,  when  I  was  remembered  by  thee. 

ANNIE.  Oh,  Robert!  Lady  Mary  has  lamented  bit 
terly.  We  can  never  repay  you.  Oh !  how  can  I  forget 
that  but  for  you,  we  might  have  become  the  occupants  of 
that  dreadful  place,  the  air  of  which  chills  me  even  here ! 

ROBERT.  You  a  prisoner  here,  sweet  Annie !  The  idea 
is  too  horrible ! 

ANNIE.     Poor  Robert ! 

ROBERT.  Having  your  hands  in  mine  reminds  me  of 
the  old  days,  when  we  gathered  pebbles  on  the  banks  of 
the  loch,  and  flowers  from  the  hedges  in  the  summer 
sunshine. 

ANNIE.     Yes,  indeed,  those  were  happy  days! 

ROBERT.     Never  have  I  been  so  happy  since. 

ANNIE.     Poor  Robert !     How  sincerely  I  pity  you ! 

ROBERT.  Then  I  bless  the  chance  that  brought  me 
here. 

ANNIE.  What!  In  that  cold,  damp  pit?  (Shudder 
ing.  )  Tis  a  place  of  horror.  Oh !  that  I  could  free  you, 
Master  Reid ! 


ANNIE    LAURIE  4* 

ROBERT.  Oh  Annie!  call  me  Robert — without  the 
master.  It  will  remind  me  of  old  days,  ere  your  rank 
and  wealth  raised  such  a  gulf  between  us. 

ANNIE.  They  can  do  so  no  longer.  (Weeps.)  We 
are  landless  and  ruined  now — all  our  estates  have  been 
forfeited.  If  it  were  not  for  poor  Aunt  Mary,  I  would 
surrender  myself  to  the  Council  today. 

ROBERT.     'Sdeath!  do  not  think  of  it. 

ANNIE.  We  accuse  ourselves  of  cowardice  and 
selfishness  in  allowing  you  to  suffer  for  us. 

ROBERT.  Do  not  think  of  it!  And  please  leave  me 
now,  for  the  thought  of  what  might  happen  to  you  if  we 
were  discovered  almost  drives  me  mad.  (ANNIE  cries.) 

ROBERT.  Oh,  Annie,  if  I  were  rich,  I  feel  that  I  could 
love  you. 

ANNIE.     And  if  one  is  poor,  cannot  one  love? 

ROBERT.     Oh,  yes,  Annie!  my  sweet  Annie! 

ANNIE.  Is  there  no  escape  from  this  dreadful  place? 
Can't  these  bars  be  broken  after  dark? 

ROBERT.  'Tis  no  longer  a  prison — 'tis  the  sweetest 
abode  on  earth,  now  that  I  may  venture  to  hope  that  some 
day  when  I  win  my  spurs  I  may  approach  you. 

ANNIE.  Oh,  Robert  dear,  how  can  you  say  it,  when 
you  are  in  the  power  of  this  Council  to  be  tried  for 
treason — and  all  for  us. 

ROBERT.  I  wish  I  could  do  something  more  to  show 
my  love — something  worthy,  something  that  would  exalt 
me  in  your  thoughts. 

ANNIE.  A  woman's  love  needs  no  such  nourishment, 
dear;  we  just  love  blindly,  devotedly — sometimes  without 
rhyme  or  reason  as  the  little  flower  turns  on  its  stem  and 
begs  the  rising  sun  to  kiss  its  drooping  petals,  drinking 
in  from  its  sweet  caress  warmth,  strength,  and  life. 

ROBERT.  And  can  you  love  me  like  that,  sweet  Annie? 
How  the  thought  lifts  up  my  soul,  which  has  yearned  so 
long  for  your  love.  Ever  since  we  wandered  hand  in 
hand  as  children,  I  have  dreamt  of  none  but  you — waking 
or  sleeping,  you  were  ever  in  my  thoughts  like  a  beautiful 


42  THREE    PLAYS 

guardian  angel.  (Sighing.)  But  my  presumption  seemed 
like  madness.  And  you  are  not  angry  with  me.  (She 
kisses  his  hand.)  Oh,  for  one  hour  of  freedom;  (He 
shakes  the  bars.)  I'd  forfeit  the  rest  of  my  life. 

ANNIE.  Don't  be  so  extravagant,  dear,  your  life 
belongs  to  me. 

ROBERT.     Darling ! 

ANNIE.     Hush!     Hush!  someone  approaches. 

ROBERT.  Then  away  to  MacKay,  for  he  alone  can 
protect  you.  One  word — where  are  you  secreted? 

ANNIE.  With  my  old  nurse,  Elsie.  There  we  live  in 
poverty  and  obscurity. 

[LORD  GREENOCK,  who  is  somewhat  intoxicated, 
approaches,  muffled.  He  grasps  ANNIE  round  the 
waist,  and  lifts  her  to  the  ground.] 

ANNIE.     Help !     Help ! 

GREENOCK.  (Tearing  the  -hood  from  her  face.) 
Annie  Laurie,  by  all  the  gods !  Why,  I  thought  thee  only 
a  poor  sand-rat  or  bona  roba.  This  is  glorious!  You 
will  come  with  me,  my  beauty,  and  you  must  choose 
between  the  tapestried  chamber  of  my  Castle,  and  the 
wisp  of  straw  in  the  stone  vault  of  the  prison. 

ANNIE.     Help,  MacKay,  for  the  love  of  heaven ! 

GREENOCK.  (Taking  ANNIE  round  the  waist  and  hold 
ing  her  in  his  arms.)  Ah  ha,  my  sweet  love-bird, 
Greenock's  star  is  in  its  zenith.  (Mockingly  to  ROBERT.) 
I  thank  thee,  soldier,  for  being  the  bait  that  enticed  this 
tit-bit  into  my  arms. 

ANNIE.  (Pleadingly.)  My  Lord  Greenock,  please 
release  me.  My  Aunt  will  die  of  grief  and  .  .  . 
(GREENOCK  crushes  her  in  his  arms.  She  cries  out  in 
pain.)  You  hurt  me. 

ROBERT.  (At  window.)  You  coward,  let  the  girl  go, 
or  I'll  kill  you. 

GREENOCK.  I'll  let  her  go,  after  I've  carried  her  to 
my  Castle,  and  entertained  her  for  a  month — then  she  can 
go  if  she  wants  to.  But  revenge  is  sweeter  than  love  to 


ANNIE    LAURIE  43 

my  heart,  arid  (To  ANNIE)  you'll  beg  of  me  to  marry  you 
yet  on  your  bended  knees. 

ROBERT.  (Shaking  the  bars  of  the  window  madly.} 
Dog!  Viper!  Let  me  out!  Let  me  out! 

GREENOCK.  Let  you  out!  I'll  let  you  out,  when  my 
minions  lead  you  to  the  Council  Chamber,  where  we'll 
torture  you  till  you  pray  for  death.  You  tried  to  thwart 
me,  didrnt  you?  I'll  have  every  tooth  pulled  from  your 
mouth  with  red-hot  pincers.  I'll  have  your  nails  torn 
from  finger  and  toe,  and  then  I'll  have  boiling  oil  poured 
on  your  head,  one  drop  at  a  time  until  your  soul  leaps 
with  joy  from  your  cursed  body. 

ANNIE.  (Gaspingly.}  What  manner  of  man  are 
you?  Have  you  no  soul?  Have  you  no  pity?  Did  you 
never  know  a  mother's  love,  or  a  father's  pride?  If  you 
believe  in  a  God,  in  eternal  punishment  or  happiness,  turn 
your  wrath  from  him  to  me.  Let  him  be  free,  and  take 
me,  and  do  with  me  as  you  will.  I  will  even  try  to  like 
you,  if  you  will  but  let  poor  Robert  go  forth  a  free  man. 
(She  faints  on  his  arm.} 

GREENOCK.  Ah  ha,  that  brings  you  to  your  knees, 
proud  beauty.  (To  ROBERT.)  And  you,  baseborn  bas 
tard,  I  will  crush  your  soul  and  body  too. 

ROBERT.  You  cur!  I  despise  you!  Your  threats 
have  no  terror  for  me.  Dumbarton  will  be  here  to 
morrow,  and  then  I  will  be  out  of  this,  and  I  will  seek 
you  and  find  you,  and  if  you  harm  one  hair  of  her  head, 
I  will  kill  you — if  the  next  moment  be  my  last. 

GREENOCK.  (Sneeringly.}  You'll  eat  your  words 
before  night.  But  now  I  will  take  your  turtle-dove  to 
my  carriage,  and  attend  to  you  later.  (ANNIE  has  par 
tially  recovered  and  is  standing,  half -dazed,  supported  by 
GREENOCK.)  Wake  up,  Girl.  (He  shakes  her  roughly, 
and  starts  to  half  lead,  half  drag,  her  toward  exit.} 

ROBERT.  (Shaking  the  bars,  and  shouting  wildly.} 
MacKay,  MacKay,  to  the  rescue.  Your  sword!  Your 
sword!  ( MACKAY  rushes  down  the  alley,  followed  by 


44  THREE    PLAYS 

HILDA.     MACKAY  and  GREENOCK  struggle.     ANNIE  falls 
into  HILDA'S  arm.     MACKAY  knocks  GREENOCK  down.) 

MACKAY.  (To  ANNIE.)  Fly  at  once  with  Hilda. 
The  coach  is  at  the  head  of  the  road.  Leave  me  to  deal 
with  this  brawler. 

[ANNIE  and  HILDA  exeunt.] 

GREENOCK.  (Rising  and  drawing  his  sword.)  Let 
me  pass,  villain,  I  am  a  Lord  of  the  Privy  Council,  and 
to  draw  on  me  is  treason. 

MACKAY.  Were  you  the  King  himself,  I  would  run 
you  through  for  applying  such  an  epithet  to  a  gentleman 
of  the  house  of  MacKay. 

[  They  cross  swords,  and  after  a  few  passes  GREENOCK'S 
sword  is  broken  at  the  hilt,  and  he  is  slightly  woun 
ded  on  the  wrist.] 

GREENOCK.  (Who  is  now  thoroughly  sobered  by  the 
wound.)  Not  much;  but  hark  you,  we  must  enact  this 
over  again  by  daylight  tomorrow. 

MACKAY.  Whenever  your  Lordship  pleases  !  ( They 
bow  to  each  other  and  MACKAY  goes  out.) 

GREENOCK.  (Approaching  the  prison  window.)  Ah! 
Reid,  you  spawn  of  the  Covenant,  I  will  settle  with  you 
now.  (Shouts.)  What  ho !  varlet,  Tammy. 

MACER.     Coming,  Sir.     Yes,  my  Lord.     (He  enters.) 

GREENOCK.  The  Council  is  sitting  now.  Lead  that 
dog  before  their  Lordships. 

ROBERT.  (Laughs  triumphantly.)  Ah!  My  Lord. 
My  heart  is  light  and  joyous,  and  now  I  fear  neither 
torture  nor  Council.  I  may  die  tomorrow,  but  today  the 
world  is  mine,  for  Annie  Laurie,  the  sweetest  girl  in 
Scotland,  has  given  me  her  heart. 

CURTAIN 


ANNIE    LAURIE  45 


ACT  III. 

SCENE  I.  [Chamber  of  Privy  Council.  A  long  table  sur 
rounded  by  chairs  for  members  of  Council.  Enter 
MACER  and  SERGEANT  WEYMSS.] 

MACER.  Ay,  mon,  here  is  the  great  chamber  itself,  and 
the  preacher  and  your  brave  soldier  will  stand  at  the  bar 
there  to  answer  with  their  lives  in  a  few  minutes. 

SERGEANT.  And,  think  you,  Macer,  that  they  will  be 
put  to  torture? 

MACER.     Ay,  surely,  mon,  unless  they  confess. 

SERGEANT.     But  Mr.  Reid  has  already  confessed. 

MACER.  Hoot,  mon,  he  has  not  told  where  the  ladies 
are  concealed. 

SERGEANT.     But  the  lad  does  not  know. 

MACER.  Wait  till  he  gets  a  touch  of  the  thumb-screws 
and  boot !  When  he  hears  his  bones  crack  he  will  tell 
more  than  he  ever  knew  before.  See,  here  is  the  maiden's 
boot.  We  put  this  on  and  hammer  home,  one,  two,  tree, 
four,  or  more  wedges  like  this  (Shows),  until  the  flesh 
is  crushed  and  the  bones  crack. 

SERGEANT.  Damn  the  place !  Let  me  out  or  I'll  stifle. 
(Exit.) 

MACER.  (Chuckling.)  He!  He!  He!  Take  care,  Mr. 
Redcoat,  or  we'll  fit  the  maiden's  boot  to  that  fat  calf  of 
yours.  (Enter  LORD  GREENOCK  from  door  up  Right.) 
Your  servant,  my  Lord.  What  can  I  do  for  you?  The 
Council  has  adjourned  for  an  hour. 

GREENOCK.     Well,  varlet,  did  you  find  Lord  Mclntyre? 

MACER.  Yes,  your  Lordship,  he  will  be  here  in  a 
minute. 

GREENOCK.     And  how  is  the  mare? 

MACER.     Muckle  the  same,  puir  beastie. 

GREENOCK.  I  hope,  knave,  you  gave  her  the  warm 
mash,  and  bathed  her  nostrils  and  fetlocks. 


46  THREE    PLAYS 

MACER.  Without  fail !  We  maun  ta'  guid  care  o'  her 
— the  last  o'  a  fine  stud  o'  fifty.  By  my  faith,  when  a 
mare  has  the  wheeze,  the  staggers,  and  the  spavin — 

GREENOCK.     Has  she  all  those? 

MACER.  Has  she  indeed!  And  if  ye  had  taken  my 
advice  a  month  since  and  burnt  that  auld  witch,  Elsie,  the 
mare  would  have  been  sound,  wind  and  limb,  from  that 
moment. 

GREENOCK.  'Sblood,  Tammy,  dost  think  the  cantrips 
of  the  old  hag  have  really  bewitched  my  favorite  nag? 

MACER.  I'm  no  just  ready  to  swear,  my  Lord,  but  it  is 
unco'  queer,  that  the  puir  beastie  should  fa'  ill  o'  so  many 
things  just  after  auld  Elsie  jawed  you  for  riding  through 
her  corn  for  a  short  cut. 

GREENOCK.  (Angrily  comes  toward  him.)  By  all  the 
devils,  Tammy,  if  I  thought  the  bearded  hag  had  caused 
the  mare's  illness,  I  would  have  her  in  the  hands  of  the 
executioners  today.  (TAMMY  rubs  his  hands  in  glee.) 
We  had  two  hags  before  us  yesterday,  and  we  sentenced 
both  to  be  burned  at  the  stake. 

MACER.     It's  the  only  thing  to  do ! 

GREENOCK.     One  was  sentenced  for  confessing  witch 
craft,  and  the  other  for  refusing  to  confess  it. 
[Enter  LORD  MC!NTYRE.] 

MclNTYRE.  Ou  aye!  Ou  aye!  He!  He!  Have  her 
up  before  the  Council  as  a  full-blown  case  of  sorcery. 
I  have  kent  rack  and  screw  bring  mony  a  queer  story 
to  light — riding  to  Glascow  on  a  broom-shank, — sailing 
to  the  cape  in  a  milk-bowl, — raising  a  storm  of  wind  by 
the  agency  of  a  black  beetle.  Oh !  we  had  a  grand  case 
of  this  kind  in  the  northern  courts  last  month. 

MACER.  But  the  good  old  fashion  of  tar-barrelin'  is 
clean  going  out  these  days. 

GREENOCK.  Well,  you'll  see  one  shortly  unless  the 
mare  gets  better,  and  I  capture  the  girl. 

MclNTYRE.  (Chuckling.)  And  now,  Greenock,  what 
want  ye  me  for  so  long  before  the  Council  meets  ? 


ANNIE    LAURIE  47 

GREENOCK.  I  want  your  help,  Maclntyre,  in  this  busi 
ness  of  the  Lauries. 

MclNTYRE.  (To  TAMMY.)  Have  you  got  a  drink, 
lad? 

[TAMMY  pulls  from  his  pocket  a  large  flask,  and  un 
screws  the  cup  from  the  botton.  Then  he  unscrews 
the  top,  fills  the  cup  from  the  contents,  and  hands 

It  tO   MclNTYRE.] 

TAMMY.  Eh!  my  Lord,  I  never  travel  without  it. 
(MclNTYRE  drinks  all  that  is  in  the  cup,  and  fills  it  again.} 

MclNTYRE.  Leave  the  flask,  Tammy,  and  stand  out 
side  the  door.  See  that  there  are  no  eavesdroppers. 
(Exit  TAMMY.) 

GREENOCK.  I  mean  to  make  every  effort  to  obtain 
their  lands — and  the  girl  to  boot. 

MclNTYRE.     She  has  a  noble  barony  for  a  dowry. 

GREENOCK.  Yes,  I  need  the  money,  and  I  have  long 
loved  the  girl. 

MclNTYRE.  He !  He !  I  have  heard  you  say  the  same 
of  others  many  a  time  before.  But  the  lands,  man — they 
will  be  forfeited  to  the  King. 

GREENOCK.  So  were  those  of  the  Muirs  of  Caldwell. 
Yet  Sir  Thomas  of  Binns  now  holds  them  as  a  free  gift 
from  the  Council. 

MclNTYRE.  And  he  holds  them  fast,  too.  Weel, 
Greenock,  perhaps  we  can  manage  the  lands  all  right. 
Amongst  ourselves,  it's  a  case  of  "Scratch  me,  and  I'll 
scratch  you" ;  and  I  have  had  my  share  of  the  pickings  in 
lands  and  woods. 

GREENOCK.    I  must  have  the  person  of  little  Annie  also. 

MclNTYRE.     (Chuckling.}     He!  He!  He! 

GREENOCK.     I  would  give  a  thousand  gold  pieces — 

MclNTYRE.     He!  He!  If  you  had  them! 

GREENOCK.  Crush  me,  yes !  To  discover  where  the 
damsel  is  hiding.  And  this  fellow,  Reid,  who  has  crossed 
me  twice — let  him  look  to  it.  My  path  must  not  be 
crossed  by  man  nor  devil. 


48  THREE    PLAYS 

MclNTYRE.  Nor  must  that  of  any  Councillor  while 
a  death  warrant  can  be  had  for  the  asking. 

GREENOCK.  Right,  my  friend ;  our  laws  are  severe  and 
they  are  written  in  blood. 

MclNTYRE.  You  have  been  a  wild  buckie  in  your  day, 
my  Lord,  and  when  I  think  of  a'  the  braw  queens,  gentle, 
and  simple,  that  you  have  loved — and  abandoned — I  mar 
vel  that  some  sword  of  father  or  brother  hath  not  slivered 
your  gullet.  How  about  your  fair  one  in  Merlin's  Wynd  ? 

GREENOCK.     Pshaw !     I  tired  of  her  long  ago. 

MclNTYRE.     And  Lady  Rosa? 

GREENOCK.  By  Jove,  it's  funny  to  hear  you  speak  of 
a  noble  lady  and  a  poor  bona  roba  in  the  same  breath. 
Rosa  is  beautiful,  but  poor  and  proud.  Damn  it,  we 
would  hate  each  other  in  a  week.  But  I  really  think  that 
Annie  Laurie  is  capable  of  fixing  all  my  wandering  fan 
cies  for  life. 

MclNTYRE.  He !  He !  I  have  heard  you  say  the  same 
of  fifty.  But  hath  your  coronet  no  attractions  for  the 
lassie? 

[Enter  TAMMY  quietly.] 

GREENOCK.  No !  It  has  no  more  value  in  the  eyes  of 
Annie  Laurie  than  a  peasant's  bonnet.  A  thousand  times 
have  I  endeavored  to  gain  her  notice,  but  she  is  colder 
to  me  than  an  icicle.  But,  fury!  I  was  never  crossed 
in  my  purpose  yet,  and  I  don't  mean  to  be  now.  The 
girl  must  be  mine.  I  would  give  a  hundred  crowns  to 
get  the  right  scent  after  her. 

TAMMY.     I  can  do  it  for  half  the  money,  my  Lord. 

GREENOCK.     The  devil !     Are  you  listening,  fellow  ? 

TAMMY.  Fellow  indeed!  Troth!  I  was  the  best  of 
good  fellows  when  I  received  that  crack  on  my  crown 
which  Claversee  meant  for  your's,  in  that  fight  on  the 
bridge. 

GREENOCK.  True,  Tammy,  but  I  don't  like  to  be  over 
heard  in  some  matters. 

TAMMY.  (Spitefully.)  And  my  Lady  Eleanor  often 
said  to  me  you  were  over-rough  and  haughty  e'en  wi'  her, 


ANNIE    LAURIE  49 

my  Lord;  and  even  the  bonny  bairn  she  gave  you  didn't 
soften  you  much. 

GREENOCK.  (Passionately.)  A  thousand  curses, 
varlet,  why  speak  of  my  dead  wife  and  her  lost  boy! 
Her  ashes  lie  peacefully  in  Paris,  and  you  know  the  loss 
of  the  child  maddens  me  even  now  when  I  think  of  it. 
Away  with  you,  or  the  bottle  will  follow  that. 

[He  throws  his  hat  at  TAMMY,  who  dodges  and  exits, 
then  puts  his  head  through  the  door.  ] 

TAMMY.     The  boy  may  be  alive. 

GREENOCK.  Another  word  of  that  subject  and  I'll  take 
your  life. 

TAMMY.  Then,  my  Lord,  ye  dinna  want  to  ken  where 
the  bonny  lassie  can  be  netted?  I  could  catch  her  in  a 
day. 

GREENOCK.     Art  sure  of  it? 

TAMMY.     My  thumb  on  it! 

GREENOCK.  Well,  be  brief.  Tell  me  what  you  know 
of  the  matter. 

TAMMY.  That  auld  witch,  Elsie,  was  nurse  to  Mis 
tress  Annie,  and  her  mother  before  her,  and  if  any  auld 
witch  in  the  Country  knows  where  they  are,  she  does. 

GREENOCK.  Right,  Tammy !  I  will  have  her  dragged 
to  the  chamber  tomorrow,  if  Reid  is  stubborn  and  fails 
to  confess ;  and  if  there  is  any  truth  in  her  tongue,  I  vow 
Pete  Pincers  will  drag  it  from  her.  Take  these,  Tammy. 
(Offering  him  some  corns.)  As  earnest  of  what  I  will 
give  you  if  the  scent  holds  good. 

TAMMY.  (Jauntily.)  Keep  your  gowd,  Greenock, 
for,  faith!  you  need  it  more  than  me.  I  hear  the  steps 
of  the  Lords  of  the  Council,  so,  by  your  leave  I  will  wait. 

[He  goes  out.  Enter  LORDS  of  COUNCIL.  They  are 
greeted  by  LORD  GREENOCK  and  MC!NTYRE,  as  they 
enter,  and  then  take  their  seats.  The  LORD 
CHANCELOR  takes  the  chair,  and  orders  the  MACER 
to  bring  in  ICHABOD,  who  is  guarded  by  the  execu 
tioner  and  his  assistants,  who  wear  leather  aprons, 
and  are  dressed  somewhat  like  blacksmiths.  ICHA- 


50  THREE    PLAYS 

BOD  is  pale  and  trembling.     ANNIE  and  maid  come 
in  to  watch.     They  are  disguised.     ANNIE  is  dis 
guised  as  a  very  old  and  feeble  woman.  ] 
LORD   CHANCELLOR.      Macer,    bring   Ichabod   Bounce 
before  us. 

[Exit  MACER,  and  returns  with  ICHABOD  guarded  by 

two  assistants.] 

LORD  CHANCELLOR.  (To  ICHABOD.)  You  are  charged 
with  being  a  traitor  to  your  country.  What  have  you 
got  to  say? 

ICHABOD.     I  am  a  citizen  of  Holland,  and  ye  have  no 
jurisdiction  over  my  body. 
MACER.     Silence ! 

ICHABOD.  (To  MACER.)  I  will  not  keep  silent!  (To 
Council.)  I  am  a  minister  of  the  Covenanted  Kirk 
licensed  to  preach  the  word  of  God. 

LORD  CHANCELLOR.     Have  you  any  documents  on  your 
person?     Or  do  you  know  where  any  are  hidden? 
ICHABOD.     I  decline  to  say. 

GREENOCK.  Do  you  deny  that  you  are  a  subject  of  our 
Royal  Master,  King  James? 

ICHABOD.  Well  might  I  deny  the  land  that  produces 
such  as  thee. 

MclNTYRE.  Away  with  him,  and  give  him  a  touch  of 
the  boot ! 

[ICHABOD  is  led  out,  and  in  a  few  moments  red  light 
flashes  from  the  door  out  of  which  he  was  led.  The 
creaking  of  chains  is  heard.  Soon  there  is  a  terrific 
shriek,  and  the  MACER,  who  sits  guarding  ROBERT, 
rubs  his  hands  in  glee.  Deep  groans  succeed,  and 
then  the  sound  of  hammers  and  the  creaking  of  a 
block.  Another  shriek  is  heard,  and  then  all  is 
silence.  The  executioner  and  his  assistants  enter, 
carrying  ICHABOD  between  them.  The  spectators 
show  signs  of  varied  emotions,  and  ANNIE  is 
terrified.  ] 

ANNIE.  (In  disguised  voice  to  MAID.)  I'm  afraid 
my  poor  strength  will  leave  me ;  the  ordeal  is  too  terrible. 


ANNIE    LAURIE  51 

MAID.  For  God's  sake,  let  us  leave  this  place  of 
horrors. 

ANNIE.  Oh !  you  sweet  Mother  of  God,  you  know  the 
weakness  of  my  sex;  give  me  some  of  your  wisdom  and 
strength  to  face  this  ordeal. 

MAID.     Oh !  Good  Lord,  have  pity  on  us. 
ANNIE.     Oh !  Saviour  of  mankind,  who  died  for  the 
sake  of  poor  mortals,  give  me  strength  to  face  this  hour, 
and  then  take  me  from  this  wretched  life. 

MclNTYRE.  Take  him  out,  and  dash  a  bucket  of  cold 
water  over  him. 

[They  go  out  with  ICHABOD,  and  return  carrying  him 
by  the  arms.     He  is  groaning  with  pain,  dripping 
with  water,  and  unable  to  support  himself.} 
MclNTYRE.     Now,  varlet,  will  you  speak? 
ICHABOD.     (Singing.) 

I  hear  a  voice  from  Heaven 
Commanding  me  to  sing; 
Go  forth  and  lead  the  godly  host 
Against  the  bluidy  King. 
[The  MACER  runs  forward  and  strikes  him  on  the 

mouth  with  his  baton.] 

MACER.  Will  you  confess?  (Again  ICHABOD  starts 
to  sing.) 

GREENOCK.  Take  him  out,  and  pull  a  few  of  his  teeth. 
(They  start  to  drag  him  out.) 

ICHABOD.  Oh!  Spare  me  that  punishment.  I  will 
confess  anything,  everything. 

GREENOCK.     Have  you  any  documents? 
ICHABOD.     Yes. 

GREENOCK.     Where  are  they? 
ICHABOD.     Search  my  boot. 

[His  boot  is  taken  off,  and  ripped  open  by  the  MACER, 
who  draws  forth  a  paper.     LORD  MC!NTYRE  reads  it 
silently.     ICHABOD  turns  to  soldiers  behind  him.} 
ICHABOD.     Art  thou  the  son  of  Anti-Christ? 
HUBERT.     No,  I  am  Hubert,  the  son  of  my  father,  John 
McGee,  of  Burghmure  Road. 


52  THREE    PLAYS 

ICHABOD.  Then,  in  God's  name,  give  me  a  drink  of 
water,  for  I  suffer  the  tortures  of  hell. 

HUBERT.     Here's  some  whiskey. 

[HUB.  hands  him  a  flask  from  his  pocket  and  ICHABOD 
drinks  greedily.] 

ICHABOD.  It  is  the  devil's  invention — whiskey,  but,  ma 
certie,  it  tasted  good,  and  gives  new  life  to  my  puir  body. 

[He  drinks  again,  and  gives  flask  back  to  soldier  who 
turns  it  upside  down,  with  look  of  disappointment 
at  finding  it  empty.] 

ICHABOD.  Heaven  bless  thee,  soldier,  and  reward  thee, 
for  I  cannot.  Oh !  Why  tarry  the  charriot- wheels  of  the 
Deliverer?  (He  is  taken  out.) 

MACER.  Silence,  dog!  Or  you  will  again  taste  the 
pincer.  (LORD  MC!NTYRE  finishes  reading  the  paper.) 

MCINTYRE.  Egad,  my  Lords,  there  is  a  perfect  nest 
of  treason — over  a  hundred  names;  there  will  be  many 
forfeitures  on  the  strength  of  this.  But  let  us  consider 
the  prisoner. 

MACER.  Stand  forward,  Robert  Reid.  (Enter  RO 
BERT  escorted  by  two  soldiers.) 

MCINTYRE.  Young  man,  you  know  for  what  you 
appear  before  us? 

ROBERT.  My  Lord,  for  allowing  the  escape  of  prison 
ers  placed  under  my  charge. 

GREENOCK.  Prisoners  charged  with  treason  and  lea 
guing  with  enemies  of  the  State. 

MCINTYRE.     And  you  plead  guilty? 

ROBERT.     I  cannot  deny  it,  my  Lord. 

MCINTYRE.  Weel,  that  saves  us  the  trouble  of  exa 
mining  witnesses. 

GENERAL  DALZIEL.  A  fine  beginning  for  a  young  sol 
dier!  But  do  you  know  the  price  of  it? 

ROBERT.  My  life,  perhaps,  General.  But  may  it 
please  you,  my  Lords,  to  pardon  this,  my  first  offense,  in 
consideration  of  my  five  years  faithful — and  as  yet  un 
requited  service. 


ANNIE    LAURIE  53 

GREENOCK.  (Sneeringly.)  I  doubt  not  that  you  were 
well  paid  for  your  untimely  gallantry. 

ROBERT.  You  are  a  liar  and  a  coward !  I  have  a  soul 
above  bribery,  the  brightest  coronet  in  Scotland  wouldn't 
tempt  me  to  change  sides  as  you  and  others  here  have 
done. 

GREENOCK.  (Crosses  toward  him  In  a  rage.)  Silence, 
rascal !  and  remember  that  in  yonder  room  there  is  a 
bodkin  of  steel  to  bore  such  tongues  as  thine. 

LORD  CHANCELLOR.  (Rises  at  back  of  table.)  Enough 
of  this !  Robert  Reid,  are  you  aware  of  where  the  ladies 
of  Maxwelton  are  concealed? 

ROBERT.     I  decline  to  answer. 

GREENOCK.  Disclose  their  hiding-place  instantly,  or, 
by  all  the  devils,  we  will  have  the  marrow  pressed  out  of 
your  bones. 

MclNTYRE.     Has  he  been  searched? 

MACER.  Yes,  my  Lord,  and  we  found  nothing  but  a 
few  shillings,  a  song  or  two,  and  the  ring  he  wears  even 
now  upon  his  finger. 

GREENOCK.     Surrender  the  ring,  fellow! 

ROBERT.  Do  with  me  as  you  please,  my  Lords,  but 
spare  the  ring.  It  contains  the  secret  of  my  life,  and  was 
found  on  the  hand  of  my  poor  mother,  when  she  lay 
dead  in  a  cottage  on  the  moor. 

MclNTYRE.     Where  did  you  get  it? 

ROBERT.  It  was  preserved,  and  restored  to  me  by  the 
noble  Countess  of  Dumbarton  when  I  marched  south 
against  Monmouth. 

GREENOCK.  Macer,  hand  up  the  ring.  His  mother 
was  some  trooper's  trull,  and  never  owned  a  ring  like  that. 

[MACER  approaches  ROBERT,  who  becomes  enraged  and 
grasps  a  sword  from  a  soldier.} 

ROBERT.     Approach,  and  by  the  God  above,  I'll  kill  you. 

CLAVERHOUSE.  Halt,  sirs.  (To  ROBERT.)  Put  down 
your  weapon,  my  lad.  I  admire  your  spirit.  (ROBERT 
hands  back  the  sword.)  Let  the  lad  keep  his  ring.  But 


54  THREE    PLAYS 

you  (to  ROBERT)  must  tell  us,  without  further  parley, 
where  these  fugitives  are  concealed. 

ROBERT.  As  a  soldier,  I  beg  of  you  not  to  press  me, 
Colonel  Graham,  on  that  point. 

CLAVERHOUSE.  I  am  here  as  a  Councillor,  not  as  a 
soldier.  These  ladies  are  charged  with  treason,  and  I 
insist  on  your  answering  our  questions. 

ROBERT.  You  are  known,  Laird  of  Claversee,  through 
the  length  and  breadth  of  Scotland  as  a  man  of  bravery. 
It  is  not  the  work  of  a  soldier  to  drag  two  helpless  women 
to  a  torture  chamber. 

GREENOCK.     Silence,  dog!     You  are  impudent! 

ROBERT.  Colonel  Graham — and  you,  General  Dalziel, 
I  appeal  to  you  to  protect  these  innocent  ladies.  Lord 
Greenock  is  using  you  to  forward  his  own  vile  purposes. 
He  wants  Annie  Laurie  and  her  fortune  for  himself. 

MclNTYRE.  This  is  too  ridiculous !  Ring  the  bell  for 
the  executioner  to  give  him  a  touch  of  the  boot. 

ROBERT.  My  Lords,  you  may  tear  me  to  pieces,  but 
I  won't  betray  my  friends. 

CLAVERHOUSE.     Hush !     My  lad. 

GREENOCK.  (Takes  step  with  back  to  audience,) 
Hear  ye  that,  my  Lords?  He  defies  us.  I  demand  that 
he  be  put  to  the  torture. 

MclNTYRE  AND  OTHERS.     Ay!  the  boot ! 

CLAVERHOUSE.  (Rises  and  turns  to  them.)  My 
Lords,  I  protest ! 

MclNTYRE.  Hoity,  toity!  Since  when  has  the  Laird 
of  Claverhouse  turned  philanthropist. 

CLAVERHOUSE.  Since  the  cold-blooded  atrocities  which 
I  have  witnessed  in  this  chamber. 

[Enter  executioner  and  assistants.  ROBERT  at  first 
flinches,  then  braces  himself.] 

ROBERT.  If  the  noble  Earl  of  Dumbarton,  and  my 
comrades  of  the  musketeers,  were  in  Edinburgh,  you 
would  not  dare  to  disgrace  me  thus.  I  deny  your 
authority.  I  am  a  soldier  and  I  claim  a  court-martial. 

DALZIEL.     By  God,  I  love  thee,  boy !     Thou  art  a  brave 


ANNIE    LAURIE  55 

lad,  and  the  first  man  that  ever  bearded  this  Council 
board. 

MclNTYRE.  But  we  will  teach  thee,  braggart,  that 
from  this  court  there  is  no  appeal — either  to  court  or 
council  of  war. 

ROBERT.  Yes,  there  is  an  appeal — to  His  Majesty  the 
King. 

MclNTYRE.  And  of  what  value  is  that  appeal,  when 
your  bones  have  been  ground  to  powder  by  the  irons. 

GREENOCK.     Enough!     Take  him  to  the  chamber,  and 
pinch  off  a  few  of  his  nails. 
MclNTYRE.     That  will  do  for  a  starter. 

[The  MACER  and  EXECUTIONER  grab  ROBERT,  and 
march  him  towards  the  door  of  the  torture  chamber. 
ANNIE  steps  forward.] 

ANNIE.  Stay,  my  Lords,  I  have  valuable  information 
in  this  case. 

GREENOCK.  Who  is  this  hag?  Let  her  not  interrupt 
the  proceedings. 

ANNIE.  (In  disguised  voice.)  Eh !  but  I  know  where 
the  noble  ladies  are  concealed,  and  if  I  can  save  the  bonnie 
bairn,  I  will  gie  ye,  my  Lord  ,information  that  will  please 
ye. 

GREENOCK.     Do  you  mean  what  you  say? 

ANNIE.  Ay,  my  Lord,  I  ken  where  Annie  Laurie  is. 
And  I  will  deliver  her  into  your  hands,  if  ye  will  promise 
to  free  the  yong  gentleman. 

GREENOCK.  Seize  her,  Macer.  (MACER  starts  for 
ward,  but  at  a  signal  from  CLAVERHOUSE  he  stops.)  Ha ! 
Ha!  you  witch,  you  have  put  your  head  in  the  lion's 
mouth.  The  varlet,  yonder,  will  pay  forfeit  with  his 
blood,  and  you  will  tell  us  all  you  know,  whether  you  wish 
to  or  not. 

ANNIE.  I  defy  you,  my  Lord,  to  make  me  speak, 
unless  I  want  to.  (She  pretends  to  be  very  feeble.)  I 
am  on  the  brink  of  the  grave,  and  one  little  turn  of  the 
screw  will  release  my  poor  spirit,  and  put  it  out  of  your 
power  to  hurt  me. 


56  THREE    PLAYS 

MclNTYRE.  The  woman  is  right,  Greenock.  Speak 
tip,  Mother,  tell  us  what  you  know  about  Annie  Laurie 
and  Lady  Mary,  and  we  will  set  you  free,  and  gie  you  a 
braw  shilling  for  your  information. 

ANNIE.  I  don't  want  your  shilling,  my  Lord 
MclNTYRE.  You  must  promise  to  release  the  laddie 
there,  and  let  him  go  free. 

MclNTYRE.     We'll  do  it.     Now,  speak  up. 

ANNIE.  Your  promise  may  be  good,  my  Lord 
Mclntyre,  but  I'll  no  speak  a  word,  until  Claverhouse  and 
Dalziel  pass  their  words  to  release  the  laddie. 

MclNTYRE.  You  miserable  old  witch !  I'll  have  you 
tar-barreled  for  doubting  my  word ! 

ANNIE.  There  is  nobody  in  Scotland  who  would  take 
your  word  for  a  bawbee,  my  Lord  Mclntyre,  but  the 
words  of  Claverhouse  and  Dalziel  are  still  as  good  as  the 
King's.  Speak  up,  my  Lords ;  have  I  got  your  promise  ? 

CLAVERHOUSE  and  DALZIEL.     Yes!  Yes! 

LORD  CHANCELLOR.     Yes !     Go  on,  speak ! 

ANNIE.  Not  yet,  my  Lords.  You  must  pay  the  price. 
Set  him  free. 

CLAVERHOUSE.  (To  guards.)  Release  the  man. 
(ROBERT  steps  forward.) 

ROBERT.  (Steps  forward.)  No.  No!  Good  woman; 
let  me  go  to  the  torture,  do  not  betray  my  friends.  If 
you  love  me  for  any  reason,  let  me  die,  but  spare  those 
ladies  the  fate  that  is  in  store  for  them. 

ANNIE.     You  love  them  better  than  life,  then? 

ROBERT.  Ay,  better  than  a  thousand  lives,  because 
there  is  still  eternity  beyond,  and  our  souls  will  meet  there. 

GREENOCK.  Come !  Come !  old  hag,  if  you  know  where 
Annie  Laurie  is  hiding,  tell  us  at  once;  but  mark  you, 
the  tar  barrel  is  your  fate  if  you  have  deceived  us;  for 
you  and  that  dog  of  a  soldier  shall  remain  here  until 
Annie  Laurie  is  dragged  before  us. 

ANNIE.  (Throwing  off  her  wig  and  cloak.)  She  is 
here! 

CURTAIN 


ANNIE    LAURIE  57 


SCENE  II. 

[Same   scene;   fifteen    minutes   later.     Rise    of    curtain 
discovers  GREEN OCK  and  MC!NTYRE  seated  at  table.] 

MclNTYRE.  Faith!  My  good  Greenock,  your  pretty 
quarry  will  hardly  escape  the  torture  now. 

GREENOCK.  Damn  the  luck !  I  must  save  the  girl  and 
marry  her  to  get  the  estates. 

MclNTYRE.  Dalziel  and  the  others  will  be  glad  of  the 
chance  to  make  you  bend  your  proud  neck,  and  beg  hard 
for  the  favour. 

GREENOCK.  Curse  you!  Don't  rub  it  in  to  me.  I 
know  that  I  am  in  a  trap  through  the  wench's  crazy 
conduct.  Why  did  she  do  it? 

MclNTYRE.  Why  do  women  ever  do  anything  that 
men  think  foolish?  He!  He!  That's  the  rut  that  all 
philosophers  think  is  easy — until  they  get  a  wife — and 
then  they  put  the  riddle  in  their  puzzle  corner  with  the 
perpetual-motion  and  squaring-the-circle  problems. 

GREENOCK.  Well,  old  friend,  your  presence  of  mind 
in  adjourning  the  Council  for  half  an  hour  after  they 
were  captured,  was  a  great  move,  for  it  gave  us  a  chance 
to  think  the  situation  over  and  form  a  plan  of  action. 
Damn  it,  I  can't  lose  the  girl  and  her  fortune. 

MclNTYRE.  The  girl  and  half  her  fortune,  my  boy— 
the  other  half  comes  to  me — or  you'll  have  to  fight  your 
own  battles. 

GREENOCK.  (Impatiently  rises.)  Yes!  Yes!  you'll 
get  your  share — only  help  me  to  untangle  this  mess. 

MclNTYRE.  (Rises.)  Let  us  see  what  we  can  do  with 
the  lass  herself.  And  you,  my  buckie,  had  better  get  rid 
of  that  frown,  and  try  what  you  can  do  with  a  smile  and 
a  soft  word.  You  used  to  be  a  devil  with  the  ladies — 
gentle  and  simple. 


58  THREE    PLAYS 

GREENOCK.     All  right.     Call  her  in. 

MclNTYRE.  Macer,  bring  Mistress  Laurie  here  and 
leave  her. 

GREENOCK.  And  call  to  us  when  any  of  my  Lords 
come  in  sight. 

MACER.  All  right,  my  Lords.  (He  goes  out  and 
returns  in  a  moment  with  ANNIE.  MACER  goes  out.} 

ANNIE.  Your  pleasure,  my  lords,  but  I  would  prefer 
to  be  left  in  peace  without,  until  the  time  of  trial  comes. 

MclNTYRE.  The  time  is  fast  coming,  young  lady;  and 
we,  as  your  best  friends,  are  trying  to  find  a  way  to  save 
you. 

ANNIE.  My  best  friends,  indeed !  Your  friendship  is 
that  of  the  hawk  for  the  robin.  Waste  not  your  time 
with  such  words  as  those.  If  you  have  anything  to  say 
to  me,  speak  truth. 

GREENOCK.  Be  reasonable,  sweet  Annie.  Torture 
and  death  await  you,  if  you  are  found  guilty  of  con 
cealing  that  confessed  rebel,  Bounce.  I  would  save  you 
— for  I  love  you. 

ANNIE.  We  knew  not  that  he  was  a  traitor.  I  am 
a  loyal  and  loving  subject  of  King  James. 

MclNTYRE.  Fine  talk,  lass,  but  your  Aunt's  name  was 
on  his  list,  and  the  macer  and  soldiers  heard  him  using 
traitorous  and  inflammable  language  in  your  house,  and 
in  your  presence. 

ANNIE.     They  were  but  the  ravings  of  a  drunken  loon. 

MclNTYRE.  Enough  of  this  talk!  You'll  be  found 
guilty  of  treason  within  the  hour,  unless  we  help  you — 
and  you  must  pay  the  price. 

ANNIE.  (Scornfully.)  And  the  price  to  such  as  ye 
would  be  dishonor. 

GREENOCK.  Damn  me,  Annie,  I  love  you  well,  and 
will  honor  you  by  making  you  my  wife.  As  the  Countess 
of  Greenock  no  one  will  dare  accuse  you.  Come!  think 
of  the  torture. 

ANNIE.     Ah !   my   lords,   with   all  your  wisdom,   you 


ANNIE    LAURIE  59 

know  not  the  heart  of  woman.  The  love  of  a  true  man 
would  be  a  prize  worth  more  to  me  than  the  coronet  of 
a  duchegs  or  the  crown  of  a  queen. 

GREENOCK.  But  I  love  you  madly,  Annie.  I  have 
long  had  my  eye  on  you  as  the  prettiest  girl  in  all 
Scotland. 

ANNIE.  Yes !  the  eye  of  the  eagle  for  its  prey.  You 
may  put  me  to  the  torture  or  to  death,  but  I'll  go  with  a 
pure  heart,  and  a  body  undefiled  by  the  touch  of  a 
monster  like  you. 

GREENOCK.     By  my  soul,   you'll  repent  of  this.     I'll 
have  the  bones  of  your  dainty  feet  crushed  to  a  pulp 
unless  you  change  your  mind  quickly. 
[Enter  MACER.] 

MACER.  My  lords,  the  time  of  meeting  is  near  and 
my  Lord  Chancellor  is  coming  this  way. 

[Enter  some  spectators  who  remain  at  the  right,  and 
ROBERT  with  a  guard  of  soldiers.  ] 

GREENOCK.  (Angrily.)  Come,  speak  before  it's  too 
late.  Consent  to  be  my  wife  before  the  Council  sits,  or 
take  the  torture — and,  by  God,  I'll  recommend  that  you 
be  burned  at  the  stake  as  a  witch. 

ROBERT.  Ah,  Annie!  Consent  to  marry  him — I  can 
not  bear  up,  while  thinking  of  you  being  slaughtered  like 
a  lamb. 

ANNIE.  Robert,  dear,  you  don't  know  what  you 
advise ;  you  can't  mean  it ;  your  mind  is  unbalanced  by 
your  sufferings. 

ROBERT.  Yes!  Yes!  I  do.  (Kneels.)  See!  On 
bended  knee  I  beg  of  you  to  give  him  your  promise. 

ANNIE.  No !  Robert,  friend  of  my  youth,  I  would  not 
be  worthy  one  thought  in  the  mind  of  an  honest  man,  if 
I  should  consent,  through  fear,  to  sell  myself  to  that  vile 
monster.  (To  GREENOCK.)  Oh!  I  detest  and  despise 
you,  and  would  rather  become  the  slave  of  the  executioner 
who  is  to  crush  my  poor  bones,  than  to  marry  you. 

GREENOCK.     (Takes  a  step  forward  and  strikes  ANNIE 


60  THREE    PLAYS 

with  his  glove  in  the  face.  She  falls  against  table.) 
You  huzzy !  I'll  bring  you  to  your  knees  yet ! 

[ROBERT  utters  a  cry  of  rage,  and  breaks  from  the 
guards.  He  springs  forward,  and  grasps  GREENOCK 
by  the  throat,  carries  him  to  the  ground,  and  almost 
strangles  him.  He  is  dragged  off  by  the  guard  just 
as  the  lords  enter  and  take  their  seats  at  the  table.] 

LORD  CHANCELLOR.  Order!  Order!  My  Lords;  please 
be  seated. 

[A  bugle  call,  the  marching  of  men  and  galloping  of 
horses  are  heard  outside.] 

DALZIEL.  (Goes  to  window  and  looks  out.)  By  my 
faith,  'tis  the  Greys  and  the  Guards.  There's  Dumbarton 
dismounting. 

LORD  CHANCELLOR.  (To  DALZIEL.)  Please  be  seated, 
General.  (Another  bugle  call.)  This  business  is  too 
serious  to  bear  further  delay.  We  must  make  an 
example  of  this  fellow  and  his  sweetheart,  or  our 
authority  is  at  an  end. 

MclNTYRE.  Yes !  Yes !  take  them  out  together,  and 
scarify  her  face  with  a  hot  iron  to  spoil  her  beauty;  and 
as  for  him,  cut  off  his  hands  just  for  a  start  off;  that 
will  keep  him  from  striking  his  superiors. 

[ROBERT  and  ANNIE  are  being  dragged  toward  the  exit, 
when  DUMBARTON  enters  followed  by  his  staff.] 

GREENOCK.     Damnation. 

MclNTYRE.     This  puts  a  new  phase  on  the  case. 

DUMBARTON.  My  Lords  and  gentlemen,  I  bring  you 
greetings  from  His  Most  Gracious  Majesty,  the  King. 
(All  rise  and  bow.)  And  I  am  pleased  to  arrive  at  a 
moment  when  your  business  seems  to  be  of  such  great 
importance. 

CLAVERHOUSE.     You  are  welcome,  Dumbarton. 

DALZIEL.     I  am  glad  to  see  you,  General. 

GREENOCK.  The  Council  has  voted  on  this  matter, 
Executioner,  do  your  duty  at  once. 


ANNIE    LAURIE  61 

ROBERT.     My  Lord  Dumbarton ! 

[DUMBARTON  turns,  and  on  recognizing  ROBERT  walks 
to  him,  takes  his  hand  and  leads  him  forward.} 

DUMBARTON.  Hullo,  Robert,  my  lad,  what  does  this 
mean? 

ROBERT.  I  am  sentenced  to  the  torture  for  striking 
Lord  Greenock. 

GREEN OCK.  Yes  !  curse  him !  He  attacked  me  in  the 
presence  of  the  Council,  and  nothing  but  his  life  will 
satisfy  my  honor. 

DUMBARTON.  (Turns  to  them  sarcastically.)  Your 
honor,  my  Lord?  But  Reid  is  one  of  my  best  soldiers, 
and  he  has  a  cool  head.  There  must  have  been  a  good 
reason.  What  was  it,  boy  ? 

ROBERT.  It  was  in  defense  of  a  lady.  Not  one  of  my 
regiment,  from  Colonel  to  the  last-joined  recruit,  but 
would  have  done  the  same. 

DUMBARTON.  Well  spoken,  my  lad,  although  not  too 
wisely.  Who  was  the  lady. 

ANNIE.     Your  little  friend,  Annie  Laurie. 

DUMBARTON.  (Taking  both  her  hands.)  You  here, 
too !  Why,  His  Majesty  sent  a  special  message  of  regard 
to  you,  and  the  Queen  sent  her  love,  and  bade  me  tell 
you  she  has  picked  out  a  noble  husband  for  you.  (To  the 
Council.)  Gentlemen,  there  must  be  some  mistake. 

MclNTYRE.  There  is  no  mistake,  my  Lord.  A  spy 
and  traitor  was  captured  in  the  Lauries'  house,  and  he 
has  confessed  and  given  up  a  treasonable  document  which 
is  signed  by  a  hundred  of  our  people,  petitioning  William 
of  Orange  to  invade  the  country,  and  promising  him 
support.  Lady  Mary  is  amongst  the  signers.  The  other 
prisoner  (indicating  ROBERT)  has  confessed  to  allowing 
prisoners  to  escape,  and  he  has  attacked  a  Councillor  here 
in  this  room.  Torture  is  too  easy  for  both  of  them. 

DUMBARTON.  I  will  answer  for  both  of  them,  and  I 
demand  that  their  cases  be  postponed,  until  His  Majesty's 
return  to  Scotland. 

GREENOCK.     And  I  object! 


62  THREE    PLAYS 

MclNTYRE.       So   do   I  ! 

DUMBARTON.  Then  I  demand  that  the  question  be  put 
to  the  vote  formally. 

LORD  CHANCELLOR.  Very  well!  General  Dalziel,  what 
is  your  vote? 

DALZIEL.     I  vote  for  postponement. 

MclNTYRE.     I  vote  that  they  both  be  tortured  at  once. 

GREENOCK.     So  do  I. 

CLAVERHOUSE.     I  vote  for  postponement. 

DUMBARTON.     So  do  I. 

CAMPBELL.     I  vote  for  torture. 

LORD  CHANCELLOR.     There  is  a  tie  vote,  and  I  vote  for 
immediate  torture.     Executioner,  do  your  duty. 
[ROBERT  and  ANNIE  are  again  seized.} 

DUMBARTON.  My  Lords  and  gentlemen,  I  beg  of  you 
to  reconsider.  Robert  Reid  is  now  an  officer  in  my  regi 
ment.  I  have  brought  his  commission  back  from  the 
King  as  a  surprise  to  him,  and  alas !  how  do  I  find  him  ? 
His  comrades,  who  are  under  arms  in  the  Square  without, 
are  waiting  to  see  his  commission  presented  to  him. 
Those  fifteen  hundred  men  are  strong  in  love  and  hate, 
and  I  will  not  be  responsible  for  their  actions  if  you  put 
this  indignity  on  their  officer,  whom  they  love  so  well. 

ANNIE.  My  Lords,  you  will  not  dare  outrage  a  King's 
officer.  He  is  under  military  law,  and  entitled  to  be  tried 
by  court-martial. 

MclNTYRE.     How  will  that  save  you,  girl? 

ANNIE.  I  care  not  what  you  do  with  me,  only  get  it 
over  quickly. 

ROBERT.  The  lady  is  innocent,  my  Lords,  as  ye  well 
know;  and,  by  the  Lord,  she'll  not  be  harmed  to  satisfy 
the  lust  of  that  scoundrel. 

[He  snatches  a  sword  from  the  Guard.] 

GREENOCK.  Neither  your  sword,  nor  your  commission, 
will  save  you  from  our  vengeance.  Seize  him,  Guards ! 

ROBERT.  Dumbarton,  stand  by  me,  for  the  love  of  the 
old  regiment. 

DUMBARTON.     (Draws  his  sword.     His  staff  do   the 


ANNIE    LAURIE  63 

same.  Staff  Officers  fall  in  behind  DUMBARTON  and 
ROBERT  with  swords  at  "Ready.")  Ay,  my  lad,  to  the 
death !  My  lords,  your  action  is  illegal,  and  I  will  defend 
my  views. 

GREENOCK.  Even  your  Lordship  will  find  it  hard  to 
escape  punishment  for  this  defiance.  At  them,  varlets ! 
(Draws  his  sword  and  pushes  soldiers  aside.) 

ANNIE.  (Rushes  to  window  and  shouts.)  Soldiers 
of  the  Guards!  To  the  rescue!  Your  officers  are  in 
danger.  (Shouts  from  without  are  heard.) 

MclNTYRE.  (To  GREENOCK.  )Be  calm,  Greenock! 
If  these  devils  are  turned  loose,  they  will  pull  the  place 
about  our  ears,  and  tear  us  to  pieces.  I  know  them. 

ANNIE.  Hear  ye,  my  lords!  Fifteen  hundred  brave 
soldiers  are  within  reach  of  my  voice.  They  have  fought 
and  bled  too,  with  Dumbarton  and  Reid.  Shall  I  tell 
them  you  are  going  to  torture  their  General? 

MclNTYRE.  Come  away  from  the  window,  lassie,  we 
will  talk  it  over. 

ANNIE.  You  have  talked  enough,  you  old  spider! 
Release  us  unconditionally  and  at  once,  or  I'll  call  to  the 
troops.  Without  there,  Douglas — Captain  McCleod,  do 
you  know  me? 

VOICES.  (From  without.)  Yes!  Yes!  fair  Annie. 
What  is  the  matter?  Do  you  want  us  in  there? 

ANNIE  Yes,  my  friends.  When  I  call,  come  quickly, 
and  come  for  blood.  Well,  my  lords,  shall  I  invite  my 
friends  to  enter? 

DALZIEL.  Mclntyre,  and  you,  Greenock,  your  lives  are 
not  worth  a  bawbee  if  those  fellows  come  here,  and  find 
out  what  you've  been  up  to.  Gad !  they'll  give  you  a  taste 
of  the  torture  you've  been  meting  out  every  day  to  those 
poor  wretches. 

MclNTYRE.  You  have  influence  with  them,  Dalziel, 
and  you,  Claverhouse,  send  them  to  their  barracks. 

DUMBARTON.  They'll  take  orders  from  no  one  but  me. 
And  they  are  waiting  to  see  their  comrade  presented  on 
parade  with  his  new  commission. 


64  THREE    PLAYS 

ANNIE.  Come,  my  Lords !  Time  is  up !  Will  you 
change  your  vote? 

MclNTYRE.  Under  the  circumstances,  I  move  that  we 
reconsider  and  adjourn. 

CAMPBELL.  I  second  the  motion!  Let  the  case  go  to 
court  martial.  (All  except  GREENOCK  say  "Ay!  Ay!") 

GREENOCK.  Damnation!  I  will  take  a  terrible  ven 
geance  for  this. 

ROBERT.  The  Council  is  now  adjourned,  my  Lord 
Greenock,  and  as  an  officer  of  the  Guards,  I  take  pleasure 
in  handing  you  this. 

[He  strikes  GREENOCK  on  the  face.  GREENOCK  draws 
and  they  cross  swords.  DUMBARTON  strikes  down 
their  swords.] 

DUMBARTON.  (Between  ROBERT  and  GREENOCK.) 
Gentlemen,  this  in  its  proper  time  and  place. 

GREENOCK.  I  cannot  challenge  him !  He  is  a  low-born 
bastard. 

ROBERT.  (Strikes  him  again.)  You  coward!  I'll 
make  you  fight. 

GREENOCK.     Be  it  so !     I'll  meet  you  in  the  morning. 

ROBERT.  And  in  the  morning,  my  Lord  Greenock,  I 
will  kill  you. 

CURTAIN 


ANNIE    LAURIE  65 


ACT  IV. 

[Interior  of  Greenock's  Castle,  three  months  later. 
Lighted  fire  at  left.  GREENOCK  is  sitting  at  a  table. 
He  fills  a  tankard  and  drinks.] 

GREENOCK.  Ah !  The  wine  tastes  good  tonight,  and 
my  blood  is  hot.  (Calls.)  Margaret!  (Enter  MARGARET 
at  Left,  haggard,  half  insane,  aged  about  forty.  She 
comes  down  to  fire.)  Any  sign  of  the  chair,  wench?  I 
am  boiling  with  impatience. 

MARGARET.  I  mind  me  when  ye  boiled  with  impatience 
for  my  coming.  But  it  was  ever  so  with  you — a  frown 
and  a  curse  for  the  old,  and  a  longing  for  a  new  face. 

GREENOCK.     Keep  quiet,  hag! 

MARGARET.  Yes,  I  am  a  hag  now,  but  once  you  praised 
my  beauty  and  longed  for  my  caresses.  Ay!  Ay!  I've 
seen  many  a  fair  face  in  this  room — even  puir  Lady 
Eleanor,  whom  I  hated.  And  now  she  lies  in  the  cold 
ground,  and  the  bairn — your  living  image. 

GREENOCK.  Curse  your  vile  tongue.  I'll  have  it 
pulled  out  some  day  if  you  let  it  wag  so  much. 

MARGARET.  There  is  little  in  the  past  to  be  proud  of, 
but  the  boy  may  be  living. 

GREENOCK.     How  know  you  that? 

MARGARET.  I  saw  him  with  Jessie,  my  lady's  maid. 
She  had  just  landed  from  the  French  boat,  and  was  hiding 
in  Mag  Anderson's  cottage  near  the  bay.  But  when  I 
went  after  dusk  to  see  her,  she  was  dead,  and  the  bairn 
was  gone. 

GREENOCK.  Wretch !  Why  have  you  kept  this  know 
ledge  from  me  for  twenty  years? 

MARGARET.  I'  faith,  my  lord,  I  wanted  to  keep  your 
mind  off  the  mother  and  child. 

GREENOCK.  (Aside.)  Can  this  old  kite  be  the  crea 
ture  I  once  loved?  But  I  need  her  services.  (Aloud.) 


66  THREE    PLAYS 

Come!  Come!  Margaret,  old  girl,  all  you  want  now  is 
gold,  and  I  have  precious  little  of  that.  But  if  you  are 
faithful,  the  gold  will  soon  come  in  bushels. 

MARGARET.  Ha!  Have  you  got  somebody  for  me  to 
poison?  Or  some  sweet  flower  to  be  plucked  from  its 
stem,  to  be  trampled  under  foot  when  its  perfume  is 
extracted? 

GREENOCK.  (Strikes  the  table  with  his  fist,  angrily.) 
Hark  ye,  Margaret,  thou  knowest  me  well,  I  think. 

MARGARET.  Oh!  Would  to  heaven  that  I  had  never 
known  thee !  I  know  little  of  thee  that  is  good ! 

GREENOCK.  (With  a  scowl.)  What  know  ye  that  is 
bad,  old  Barebones?  I  am  one — 

MARGARET.  Who  never  spared  a  man  in  his  hatred, 
nor  a  woman  in  his  lust,  a  renegade  Covenanter,  a  relent 
less  persecutor  of  the  pious,  a  perjured  lover,  a  faithless 
husband  and  a  false  friend — Alexander  Greenock,  thou 
art  a  fiend — thou  art  the  devil  in  man's  form. 

GREENOCK.  Ha !  Ha !  Witch,  and  I  know  thee  for  one 
whom  the  tar-barrel  and  thumbscrews  await;  and  if  you 
prove  false  to  me,  I  doubt  not  but  that  my  learned  friend, 
Mclntyre,  will  easily  find  the  devil's  mark  on  your  yellow 
hide. 

[MARGARET  turns  round,  and  pulls  aside  a  curtain, 
disclosing  a  picture  of  Lady  Eleanor.] 

MARGARET.  Have  you  no  shame !  nor  even  fear — that 
the  spirit  of  this  woman  will  strangle  you? 

GREENOCK.  (Huskily.)  Cover  it!  God's  sake,  cover 
it !  Cover  those  eyes !  Cover  it,  I  say,  or  I'll  split  your 
head  with  my  sword.  (MARGARET  pulls  back  the  curtain.) 
Begone  to  the  north  tower,  and  announce  to  me  when  the 
chair  is  at  the  gate. 

[Exit  MARGARET.  Steps  are  heard,  then  knock  at  the 
gate.  MARGARET  comes  back.} 

MARGARET.  There  are  some  bearers  without,  carrying 
a  sedan. 

GREENOCK.  (Triumphantly,)  She  is  mine  at  last. 
Now,  Master  Reid,  I  have  the  odds  on  thee.  Nor  Gods, 


ANNIE    LAURIE  67 

nor  devil,  can  save  her  from  me  now.  (To  MARGARET.) 
Admit  them,  woman,  and  lead  the  lady  to  the  bridal- 
chamber. 

[GREENOCK  goes  out  right  and  MARGARET  left.  After 
a  moment,  MARGARET  re-enters,  followed  by  TAMMY 
and  his  assistants,  bearing  the  sedan  chair.  TAMMY 
eyes  MARGARET  with  some  fear.] 

TAMMY.     Good  day  to  ye,  gommer. 

MARGARET.  Good  day,  ye  gowk!  And  'twill  soon  be 
goodnight  for  ye.  See!  (In  a  half-scream,  pointing 
through  the  window.)  The  light  that  dances  in  yonder 
hollow!  (TAMMY  and  the  others  show  signs  of  great 
fear.  )  See,  (Screamingly)  'tis  a  corpse  candle!  Ah, 
fool!  the  day  isn't  far  off  when  one  will  be  dancing  in 
the  grass  over  your  grave. 

TAMMY.  (Terribly  frightened.)  Jock,  and  ye  others, 
I  ta'  ye  to  witness  that  she  fortells  my  death.  'Tis  malice 
and  sorcery  and  I  shall  hale  ye  (to  MARGARET)  before 
the  Council,  and  send  ye  to  the  fires  of  eternity  over  a 
tar-barrel. 

MARGARET.  Ye'll  never  live  to  see  it,  gommeral,  your 
days  are  counted  now.  Tremble,  wretch !  (TAMMY  yells. 
LORD  GREENOCK  enters.) 

GREENOCK.  (To  MARGARET.)  What  mummery  is  this? 
Silence,  woman,  lest  I  strangle  thee!  Begone!  (MAR 
GARET  moves  away.  GREENOCK  approaches  the  sedan.) 
Fair  Annie,  my  beloved,  you  will  pardon  this  trick,  for 
which  the  excess  of  my  love  can  be  the  only — the  best 
excuse.  My  love,  you  have  known  it  long,  dear  girl,  and 
too  long  have  you  slighted  it.  But,  on  bended  knee,  I 
beseech  thee  to  pardon  me.  Annie,  dearest  Annie.  Come 
to  my  protecting  and  loving  arms. 

[ANNIE  is  lifted  out  unconscious  with  bandage  round 
her  mouth.  TAMMY  and  bearer  exeunt  with  chair. 
ANNIE  is  put  on  chair  Left  of  table.] 

MARGARET.  Poor  bairn!  With  all  your  beauty  and 
youth  I  don't  envy  you  now. 


68  THREE    PLAYS 

GREENOCK.  Silence,  wretch !  Use  your  wits  to  bring 
her  to  life. 

[MARGARET  gives  ANNIE  wine  and  chafes  her  hands 
and  head.     Enter  TAMMY.] 

TAMMY.  We'll  need  your  protection,  my  Lord!  I'm 
thinking  my  old  lady  is  more  than  half-killed. 

GREENOCK.  What?  You  old  fool,  didn't  you  know 
enough  to  avoid  violence? 

TAMMY.  Avoid  violence,  indeed?  You  told  me  to 
bring  you  the  girl,  if  I  had  to  swim  through  blood,  and 
now  you  have  her  you  make  light  of  my  services. 

[MARGARET   comes   round   back   of   table    to   Left   of 
ANNIE.] 

GREENOCK.  No,  no,  Tammy,  you're  all  right,  and  I'll 
reward  you ;  but  the  old  lady  has  influence  with  the  new 
King  in  London.  What  did  ye  do  to  her. 

TAMMY.  We  surrounded  the  chair  as  planned,  and  a 
couple  of  cracks  on  the  pate,  put  the  chair-men  to  sleep, 
but  the  ladies  clung  to  each  other,  and  the  old  lady  got 
a  crack  on  the  head  as  she  was  dragged  from  the  chair. 
We  left  her  there  on  the  road,  and  travelled  full  speed 
for  home. 

GREENOCK.  (Throws  purse.}  Here,  give  something 
to  those  fellows,  and  warn  them  if  they  value  their 
tongues  to  keep  their  mouths  shut  tight.  Begone !  (Exit 
TAMMY.) 

MARARET.  She's  coming  to,  and  you'd  better  go  out 
until  she  regains  her  strength  somewhat. 

GREENOCK.  I'm  dying  with  impatience.  Don't  keep 
me  waiting  if  you  value  my  friendship. 

MARGARET.     Pouff!     (Exit  GREENOCK.) 

ANNIE.     What  has  happened?     Where  am  I?     Ah,  I 
remember,    we    were    attacked    by    robbers.      Where's 
Auntie?     Is  she  safe? 
,     MARGARET.     She's  safe  enough !     Take  another  drink. 

ANNIE.  No,  no,  I'm  well  now.  Where  am  I?  To 
whom  do  I  owe  my  rescue? 

MARGARET.     To  Lord  Greenock.     This  is  his  Castle. 


ANNIE    LAURIE  69 

ANNIE.  Oh,  dear  God,  this  is  worse  than  death. 
(Struggles  to  her  feet.)  Let  me  get  away  from  here, 
before  he  sees  me. 

MARGARET.  Tis  too  late  for  that,  he  has  seen  you. 
His  servant  abducted  you,  and  you  will  remain  here  as 
a  prisoner,  until  you  become  his  wife  or  worse. 

ANNIE.  Oh,  what  a  horrible  fate!  Oh,  Robert,  my 
Robert,  come  to  me  and  save  me.  (To  MARGARET.)  You 
will  help  me  (takes  hold  of  her  arms.)  You  look  like 
a  good  woman.  Help  me  to  get  away  from  here,  and  I'll 
be  your  friend  for  life.  Do  you  want  riches?  I  will 
give  them  to  you — gold,  houses,  jewels — only  get  me  away 
from  here  before  that  horrible  man  comes  back. 

MARGARET.  (Putting  ANNIE  away  from  her.)  I'm 
sorry  for  you,  girl.  I  thought  my  heart  was  dead,  but 
your  grief  stirs  me  here.  (Puts  her  hand  to  heart.)  I'd 
help  you  if  I  could,  but  neither  God  nor  devil  can  get  you 
out  of  the  clutches  of  Greenock,  until  he  is  ready  to  let 
you  go. 

ANNIE.  Oh,  Robert,  why  did  you  go  far  away  to  the 
Southland?  Come  back,  my  love,  or  I  am  lost.  (Enter 
GREENOCK.  ) 

GREENOCK.  Lost  indeed!  You've  only  just  been 
found,  sweet  Annie,  and  I  will  teach  you  more  of  love  in 
a  day  than  that  beardless  beggar  could  imagine  in  a  year. 

ANNIE.  My  Lord,  you  will  be  punished  for  this 
outrage.  How  dare  you  treat  me  in  this  way? 

GREENOCK.  (Laughingly.)  Dare?  'Tis  the  sweetest 
dare  I've  ever  dared  in  all  my  daring  days.  You  know 
not  the  power  of  your  beauty. 

MARGARET.     And  your  wealth. 

GREENOCK.  Begone,  hag,  another  word,  and  I'll  have 
your  tongue  cut  out.  (Exit  MARGARET,  scowling.) 

ANNIE.  (To  MARGARET.)  Oh,  don't  go — don't  leave 
me  alone.  (Follows  her.) 

GREENOCK.  Mistress  Laurie,  you  are  completely  in  my 
power,  and  must  do  my  will.  But  I  will  marry  you.  I'll 
give  up  my  wild  ways,  and  be  a  model  to  the  new  Court, 


70  THREE    PLAYS 

ANNIE.  I  am  betrothed  to  another  man,  and  I  can 
never  love  anyone  else,  and  I  hate  you.  Oh,  my  Lord, 
why  did  you  pick  on  me,  who  never  did  you  any  wrong? 
If  it  is  my  wealth  you  want,  take  it — take  it  all — but 
spare  me.  I  value  my  love  above  all  the  treasures  of  the 
world. 

GREENOCK.  Your  love  is  in  the  grave,  girl.  Do  you 
not  know  that  King  William's  troops  are  everywhere 
victorious,  and  the  Stuarts  are  scattered  and  on  the  run. 

ANNIE.     But  Robert  lives,  I  heard  it  a  month  ago. 

GREENOCK.  He  lived  a  month  ago,  but  since  then 
every  regiment  in  King  James'  army  has  gone  over  bag 
and  baggage  to  William  of  Orange  except  the  Scots 
Greys  and  the  first  Scottish  Musketeers  to  which  he  be 
longed,  and  they  have  been  surrounded  by  the  Dutch  and 
slaughtered  like  sheep. 

ANNIE.  Tis  false!  I  won't  believe  it!  They  are 
true  to  their  colors  when  all  others  were  faithless.  Such 
heroes  are  a  match  for  the  whole  Dutch  army,  and  they 
will  yet  march  into  Edinburgh  to  replace  the  true  King 
on  the  throne.  (Enter  MC!NTYRE.) 

MclNTYRE.  What's  this  I  hear?  It  sounds  like  treas 
on  to  King  William. 

ANNIE.  So  you  will  read  it,  my  Lord.  You  were 
King  James's  Lord  Chief  Justice  three  months  ago,  and 
an  ardent  Roman  Catholic;  today  King  James  is  down, 
and  you  are  Chancellor  to  King  William,  and  your  morn 
ing  prayer  is  "God  save  King  William."  Next  month 
when  the  Stuarts  drive  their  enemies  into  the  seas,  I 
have  no  doubt  you'll  be  a  candidate  for  a  bishopric. 

MclNTYRE.  Silence,  wench,  I'll — I'll — (Walks  toward 
ANNIE.) 

'GREENOCK.  (Laughingly.}  Ho  there,  Margaret. 
(Enter  MARGARET.)  Show  my  lady  to  her  chamber,  and 
don't  let  her  out  of  your  sight  for  a  moment. 

MARGARET.  Come,  my  lady  and  rest  a  while.  (Exeunt 
MARGARET  and  ANNIE.)  Begad,  Greenock,  she  hit  you 
hard,  old  crony. 


ANNIE    LAURIE  71 

MclNTYRE.  Damn  the  girl,  she  took  my  breath  away, 
but  as  she's  to  be  my  Lady  Greenock,  I  suppose  I  must 
forget  and  forgive.  Has  she  consented? 

GREENOCK.     Not  yet,  but  she  will  before  to-morrow. 

MclNTYRE.  Weel,  Greenock,  me  buckie,  you  have 
been  after  her  long  enough  and  it's  time  ye  were  making 
an  impression  on  her. 

GREENOCK.  Yes,  my  plan  to  abduct  her  has  proved 
successful,  but,  curse  the  jade!  she  is  as  obstinate  as  a 
mule. 

MclNTYRE.  I  have  asked  that  Me,  Ichabod,  who  is 
now  in  high  favor,  to  come  here,  and  show  her  the  error 
of  her  ways. 

GREENOCK.  And  I  have  bribed  that  minx,  Hilda,  to  aid 
me  with  the  jade. 

MclNTYRE.  He !  He !  Now  that  Hilda  has  thrown  over 
MacKay  and  married  Craigdarroch,  I  suppose  she  is 
anxious  to  make  her  friend  faithless  too.  (Enter 
TAMMY.) 

TAMMY.  A  spy  from  the  South  was  captured  near  the 
gate,  my  Lord. 

MclNTYRE.     Did  ye  search  him ? 

TAMMY.  Yes,  my  Lord,  and  we  found  these  papers — 
but  not  a  single  bawbee. 

GREENOCK.  (Gives  them  to  MC!NTYRE.)  Put  them 
on  the  table  and  begone.  (Exit  TAMMY.) 

MclNTYRE.  (Opens  package,  and  takes  out  two  let 
ters.}  Eh,  there's  nothing  of  importance  here — a  letter 
for  Lady  Dumbarton.  (He  opens  it.)  Just  a  love  line 
from  her  Lord.  And  one  to  Mistress  Hilda  Lovat — from 
that  gallant  MacKay,  credulous  fule,  to  trust  a  woman's 
faith!  He  wasn't  gone  a  month  when  she  married  his 
rival. 

GREENOCK.  (Looking  over  his  shoulder.)  Hold,  a 
thought  strikes  me!  The  hand  is  easy  to  imitate.  You 
are  a  handy  scribe,  Mclntyre — write  a  few  lines  telling 
of  Reid's  marriage  to  some  airy-fairy  camp  follower. 

MclNTYRE.    (Rubbing  his  hands  gleefully.)    Excellent! 


72  THREE    PLAYS 

Excellent  idea!     I  will  do  it  and  take  it  myself  to  the 
fair  Hilda.     (He  goes  out.) 

GREENOCK.  (Calling  after  him.)  Hold,  Mclntyre,  I 
will  be  with  you.  (Bangs  on  table.  Enter  MARGARET.) 
Inform  Mistress  Annie  that  this  is  to  be  her  abiding  place 
until  she  comes  to  her  senses.  You're  to  admit  no  one 
on  peril  of  death,  except  the  mad  preacher,  Bounce,  and 
Lady  Hilda  Craigdarroch,  who  will  be  here  presently. 
(He  shouts.)  Tammy!  (Enter  TAMMY.)  You  will 
allow  nobody  to  enter  the  Castle  except  Lady  Craig 
darroch,  and  the  mad  preacher,  Bounce.  (To  MAR 
GARET.)  Inform  Mistress  Annie  that  I  will  be  here  again 
within  ah  hour.  (From  the  door  to  MARGARET.)  Can 
you  not  find  a  love-philtre  to  give  the  girl?  (He  goes 
out.  Exit  MARGARET,  scowling.) 

TAMMY.  What's  in  the  jade  that  she  refuses  a  master 
that  any  lady  in  the  land  might  be  proud  to  love?  F 
faith,  women  are  past  my  comprehension.  (He  goes  out. 
Enter  ANNIE  and  MARGARET.) 

MARGARET.     Will  you  not  sup,  Madam? 

ANNIE.     Sup?     Oh,  no. 

MARGARET.  Try,  my  lady — a  little  milk  and  wine. 
(ANNIE  cries.)  Still  weeping?  'Twas  so  with  me  once, 
but  I  shall  never  weep  again,  till  I  wring  tears  of  blood 
from  my  betrayer. 

ANNIE.  You  frighten  me.  Please  bring  me  a  light, 
and  I  will  retire.  A  night  under  his  roof!  Ah,  God,  I 
shall  go  mad!  How  can  such  wickedness  exist?  Is  there 
no  one  to  help  me? 

MARGARET.  Might  is  right  now!  The  army  is  scat 
tered  in  the  South,  and  the  rabble  rules  the  city.  This 
Castle  is  as  close  as  a  prison,  until  my  Lord  releases  you. 

ANNIE.  Oh,  I  wish  I  could  die!  Let  me  go  to  my 
room  and  be  alone. 

MARGARET.  This  is  your  room,  my  Lady.  But  here 
is  a  visitor.  (Enter  TAMMY,  who  announces  the  REV 
EREND  ICHABOD  BOUNCE.  Exit  MARGARET.) 


ANNIE    LAURIE  73 

ANNIE.  Oh,  Mr.  Bounce,  I  am  so  glad  to  see  you. 
Cannot  you  get  me  out  of  this  hell? 

ICHABOD.  Hell  is  the  portion  of  the  wicked,  and  I 
fear  me  ye  are  too  great  a  sinner,  young  woman,  to  touch 
my  hand. 

ANNIE.     (Drawing  back.)     What  mean  you,  sir? 

ICHABOD.  I  mean  that  you  are  living  in  sin  and  shame 
—living  openly  in  the  house  of  this  ungodly  Lord,  and 
unless  ye  marry  him  forthwith,  I  will  read  ye  from  the 
pulpit  of  the  Kirk  on  the  very  next  Sabbath,  and  give 
your  shame  to  the  nation. 

ANNIE.  (Sits  down  and  sobs.)  O  God,  is  there  no 
pity  amongst  the  living? 

ICHABOD.  Ay,  pity  there  is,  but  ye  must  repent  ye  of 
your  sins. 

ANNIE.  (Standing  up  and  speaking  angrily.)  Begone, 
wretched  man,  caricature  of  a  minister  of  the  gospel! 
Such  as  you  think  and  talk  too  much  of  hell  and  punish 
ment,  and  too  little  of  the  good  in  life.  Begone  from  my 
presence,  and  let  me  not  see  your  face  again.  Even  the 
monster  who  dragged  me  to  this  house  is  preferable  to 
you. 

ICHABOD.  Hoity-toity,  as  if  the  Earl  of  Greenock  were 
not  good  enough  for  ye.  Mark  me,  ye'll  beg  of  him  to 
make  an  honest  woman  of  ye  yet. 

[ANNIE  picks  up  a  pike  and  ICHABOD  runs  out.  She 
drops  the  pike  and  throws  herself  on  the  couch. 
Enter  HILDA.] 

HILDA.  (Embraces  ANNIE.)  Still  weeping,  Annie 
dear.  I  am  so  sorry  to  find  you  in  this  predicament. 

ANNIE.  Oh,  Hilda,  I  am  so  pleased  to  see  you ! 
Cannot  you  help  me  to  escape? 

HILDA.  Escape  is  impossible,  girl.  Greenock  is  all- 
powerful  in  Edinburgh  today. 

ANNIE.     Oh,  if  Robert  were  here. 

HILDA.  Robert,  indeed!  Bosh,  Annie,  that  gallant 
never  loved  you!  Or  he  would  not  have  gone  off  with 
the  troops  and  left  you  alone. 


74  THREE    PLAYS 

ANNIE.  Oh  horrors!  This  insinuation  is  the  most 
unkind  of  all !  The  contumely  and  shame  which  Green- 
ock  has  brought  upon  me  I  can  bear— for  I  despise  them, 
though  I  mourn  them  deeply.  But  a  doubt  of  Robert's 
love —  it  sinks  like  a  dagger  in  my  heart.  It  was  the 
spirit  of  truth  and  love  with  which  he  left  me  that  makes 
me  rise  superior  to  all  this  trouble. 

HILDA.     But  Greenock  loves  you  truly! 

ANNIE.  Do  you  think  he  loves  me  as  Robert  does? 
Do  you  think  he  knows  what  love  means?  Oh  no,  his 
passion  is  a  turbulent  phantasy  inflamed  by  rivalry  and 
opposition,  and  sharpened  by  wounded  pride.  Oh !  How 
can  you  forget  the  horrible  mystery  that  involves  the  fate 
of  his  wife  and  child.  (She  sits  on  chair  and  weeps.) 

HILDA.     Pooh !     They  died  in  France. 

ANNIE.     Her  heart  was  broken. 

HILDA.  All  gossip,  my  dear.  Hearts  are  never  broken 
except  in  the  pages  of  a  romance.  As  for  me,  I  think 
there  is  something  really  noble  about  Lord  Greenock. 

ANNIE.     Noble? 

HILDA.  Yes !  And  do  not  his  wit  and  elegance  and 
his  courage  excite  the  admiration  of  every  woman  in  the 
city? 

ANNIE.  (Rises.)  Yes!  But  I  cannot  forget  what  a 
scoundrel  lies  beneath  the  mask  of  that  prepossessing 
exterior. 

HILDA.  Annie  dear,  I  have  but  one  more  argument — 
and  that  is,  that  your  fair  fame  requires  marriage. 

ANNIE.     Never!     Oh  never! 

HILDA.  Listen  to  this,  my  girl !  'Tis  a  letter  which 
I  have  just  received  from  my  old  flame,  MacKay. 
(Reads.)  "Mine  own  sweet  Hilda,  I  write  surrounded 
by  the  Dutch  troops  of  William  of  Orange  with  the 
dead  and  dying  strewing  the  earth  around.  But  believe 
me,  that  the  heart  of  your  poor  MacKay  in  suffering  and 
danger,  poverty,  and  exile,  is  still  unchanged,  my  beloved 
Hilda,  and  is  thine  for  ever.  My  ancient  signet-ring,  the 
last  relic  of  the  house  of  MacKay,  I  have  bartered 


ANNIE    LAURIE  75 

yesterday  for  a  loaf  of  bread,  and  now  I  have  nothing 
left  but  a  lock  of  thine  hair  which  shall  go  with  me  to  the 
grave.  But  more  glorious  by  far  are  our  Jacobite  rags 
than  the  gay  uniforms  and  decorations  which  we  might 
have  worn  under  the  usurper,  William  of  Orange.  Our 
old  friend,  Robert  Reid,  is  well  and  sends  his  complements 
to  you.  Farewell,  my  gentle  Hilda,  and  may  God  bless 
thee.  MacKay,  Captain  of  the  Royal  Scots  Musketeers." 
(Ends.)  My  poor  light-hearted  Richard,  would  to 
Heaven  I  could  lessen  your  miseries. 

ANNIE.  Oh,  Hilda,  how  they  must  suffer — my  darling 
Robert  and  poor  MacKay. 

HILDA.  Gossip,  tease  me  not,  but  listen  to  this  post 
scriptum.  (Reads.)  "It  will  grieve  you  much  to  hear 
that  Robert  Reid  has  broken  his  plighted  troth  to  your 
friend,  Annie  Laurie,  and  has  married  a  camp  follower 
of  bad  repute."  (Ends.) 

ANNIE.  Oh  God!  The  cup  of  my  sorrow  is  full  to 
overflowing!  Again,  read  it  again,  Hilda. 

HILDA.  Not  for  worlds!  If  Craigdarroch  heard  that 
I  had  a  letter  from  my  former  lover  he  would  be  crazy. 
To  the  flames  with  it.  (She  throws  it  in  the  fire.) 

ANNIE.  A  camp  follower  of  bad  repute!  It  is  false 
— imposible!  MacKay  hath  lied!  But,  yet — my  throat 
is  parched  and  scorching.  Give  me  water!  (HILDA  fills 
wine  cup,  and  presses  it  to  her  lips.) 

HILDA.  Bear  up,  dearie,  the  man  is  not  worth  a 
thought. 

ANNIE.  Oh  Robert!  Robert!  God  may  forgive  you 
this  cruelty — I  never  can.  (Enter  GREENOCK,  followed 
by  MclNTYRE  and  ICHABOD.) 

GREENOCK.  How  now,  fair  Annie,  what  grieves  thee 
so  cruelly? 

ANNIE.  (Rises.)  Leave  me,  all  of  you,  for  God's 
sake! 

GREENOCK.  But  won't  you  let  me  share  your  sorrow, 
whatever  it  may  be?  I  love  you  truly  and  well. 

ANNIE.     Oh !     I'll  do  anything— but  let  me  away  from 


76  THREE    PLAYS 

here !     Let  me  see  the  old  home  once  more — let  me  bury 
myself  in  its  embrace. 

HILDA.  You  are  a  fool,  Annie — you  cannot  leave  here 
with  a  good  name  except  as  the  wife  of  Greenock. 
(Exit.) 

ANNIE.  (Madly.)  Oh  yes!  I  will  marry  you  now 
this  moment ! 

ICHABOD.  (Searching  in  his  pocket.)  I  hae  lost  my 
bible — I  must  hae  left  it  in  the  kitchen.  I  will  be  back 
in  a  minute.  (Exit.) 

GREENOCK.     (Triumphantly.)     At    last    you're    mine. 
(Takes  ANNIE  in  his  arms  and  tries  to  kis  her.     She 
screams  madly  and  strikes  him  in  his  face.) 
ANNIE.     Help,  Hilda,  Help. 

GREENOCK.  Damn  the  wench,  she's  crazy — but  I'll 
punish  her  for  this.  (ANNIE  rushes  to  the  door,  but  is 
dragged  back  by  LORD  GREENOCK.) 

ANNIE.  (Breaks  away  from  him,  rushes  to  the 
window  and  shrieks.)  Help!  Help!  Will  no  one  save 
me? 

[A  shout  is  heard  outside  and  loud  rapping  at  the  gate. 
The  men  rush  from  the  room  in  alarm  and  ROBERT'S 
voice  is  heard.} 

ROBERT.     Open  the  doors,  or  we  will  blow  the  lock  off. 
GREENOCK.     (Outside.)     Begone,  rascal !    Or  I'll  hang 
thee  at  the  gates. 

[A  volley  of  musketry  is  heard  and  troopers  sing 
"Annie  Laurie."  The  door  is  heard  to  fall,  in  rushes 
ROBERT,  driving  LORD  GREENOCK  and  MC!NTYRE, 
TAMMY  and  ICHABOD  before  him.  He  is  followed 
by  a  score  of  troopers  of  the  Scots  Greys.  A  trooper 
disarms  GREENOCK  who  falls  down.  ROBERT  runs 
to  ANNIE,  who  holds  out  her  hands  to  keep  him  back 
after  fight.  ] 

ROBERT.  Confusion !  What  means  this  ?  Oh,  Annie ! 
Is  this  the  welcome  I  expected !  (ANNIE  averts  her  face 
and  sobs.)  Look  at  me,  adorable  Annie.  (He  stretches 
his  hands  toward  her.  ANNIE  trembles  and  sobs.)  Look 


ANNIE    LAURIE  77 

at  me,  beloved  one.  Dirty  and  crumpled  as  I  am,  and 
though  another  holds  your  heart,  you  cannot  have  for 
gotten  me,  and  learnt  to  view  me  with  aversion.  If  this 
false  lord  has  won  your  heart — 

ANNIE.  Oh!  Say  not  that,  Robert!  Say  not  that. 
But  how  could  you  have  forgotten  me  so  soon?  I  was 
faithful  and  true,  and  yet  you  forsook  me  for  another. 
To  God  I  appeal.  (She  raises  her  clasped  hands  and 
streaming  eyes.}  Kneeling,  I  appeal,  if  ever,  in  word  of 
thought,  I  swerved  from  thee,  until  the  tidings  of  thy 
marriage  broke  my  poor  heart.  (Enter  MARGARET.) 

ROBERT.  Heaven  preserve  my  senses !  The  devil 
himself  must  have  been  at  work!  We  have  been  de 
ceived  by  some  deep  laid  plot.  Oh !  how  could  you  have 
mistrusted  me,  Annie? 

ANNIE.  But  you  married  a  camp  follower — I  saw  it 
myself  in  MacKay's  letter  to  Hilda. 

ROBERT.     'Tis  a  foul  lie — I  am  as  free  as  air. 

[ANNIE  throws  herself  into  his  arms.  GREENOCK 
starts  forward  with  uplifted  hand,  but  just  as  he 
cuts  at  ROBERT"  an  officer  runs  him  through.  He  falls 
on  couch.] 

GREENOCK.  Ah!  Ha!  The  game  is  lost;  and  as  this 
blood  oozes  out,  the  last  of  the  race  of  Greenock  departs. 

MARGARET.  'Tis  not  so,  Alexander  Greenock.  As 
bonnie  and  brave  a  man  as  you  were,  and  a  thousand 
times  more  honest,  lives  to  uphold  the  title,  and  win  back 
honor  to  the  name. 

GREENOCK.     What  mean  you,  witch? 

MARGARET.  Let  me  have  Master  Reid's  ring,  Mistress 
Annie — fear  not,  lady,  it  will  be  returned. 

[She  takes  the  ring  which  ROBERT  had  given  to  ANNIE, 
and  hands  it  to  LORD  GREENOCK,  who  presses  a 
spring.  ] 

GREENOCK.  Oh!  Tis  my  wife's,  Eleanor's.  Where 
did  you  get  this,  Reid? 

ROBERT.  'Tis  my  mother's — 'her  dying  and  only  gift 
to  me. 


78  THREE    PLAYS 

MARGARET.  There  is  your  son  and  heir,  and  you  can 
do  no  better  than  to  wish  him  a  happier  and  better  life 
than  you  have  had. 

GREENOCK.  Eleanor!  Wife!  Forgive  me!  God 
have  mercy!  (He  falls  back  and  rolls  on  floor.) 

ANNIE.     How  came  you  on  the  scene  so  handily? 

ROBERT.  These  brave  fellows  are  Dundee's  troop  of 
horse — the  last  remnant  of  the  gallant  army  which 
marched  south  so  bravely.  We  were  passing  the  gate, 
when  I  heard  my  darling's  cry.  And  now  they  march 
for  the  Highlands,  to  make  a  last  stand  for  King  James 
and  the  honor  of  Scotland. 


CURTAIN 


THE  CONSPIRATORS 
A  DRAMA  IN  FOUR  ACTS 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 
[First  production,  Sept.  4,  1905,  Park  Theatre,  Boston] 

EDWARD  WATERS,  a  lawyer  Edward  R.  Mawson 

ROBERT  CAINE,  his  secretary  Lionel  Adams 

JOE  LEAVITT,  formerly  Joe  Levi,  an  engraver 

Russell  Bassett 

JACK  RICH,  a  young  philosopher  A.  L.  Jarett 

DORA  MORRIS,  a  society  girl  with  a  genius  for  penmanship 

Margaret  Pitt 

MRS.  MORRIS,  her  mother  Alma  E.  Lewis 

HELEN  LORD,  another  society  girl  Eleanor  Elkins 

POLICEMAN  /.  Carrol 

BUTLER  AT  WATER'S  L.  A.  Doss 

ATTENDANT  AT  LEAVITT'S  John  Martin 


ACT  I. 

[MR.  WATERS' s  library,  Boston.     Early  spring.     CAINE  is 
writing  at  desk  Right.     Bell  rings.] 

CAINE.      (Throws  down  pen  and  looks  up.)     I'm  sick 
of  this  eternal  drudgery,  and  unless  luck  turns,  I'll  do 
something  desperate  to  make  a  good  haul. 
[Enter  SERVANT  from  Left.] 

SERVANT.  A  gentleman  wishes  to  see  you,  sir. 
(Hands  card.) 

CAINE.  Leavitt.  The  devil!  (To  SERVANT.)  Show 
him  up. 

[Exit  SERVANT.] 
Hang  him,  why  does  he  come  here  to  see  me ! 

[Enter  LEAVITT  following  SERVANT.     Latter  exit.[ 

LEAVITT.  Ah !  my  dear  boy,  I'm  glad  to  find  you  in. 
(They  shake  hands.) 

CAINE.  (Sulkily.  Rises  to  shake  hands,  and  sits 
down  again.)  How  d'ye  do,  Leavitt,  but  why  do  you 
come  here?  You  know  that  I'm  walking  on  thin  ice. 
If  Waters  suspected  I  was  a  bit  of  a  sport  he'd  quickly 
dispense  with  my  services, 

LEAVITT.  Why  should  he  suspect  anything  because  I 
call?  My  character  is  irreproachable.  Am  I  not  Presi 
dent  of  a  Chinatown  Sunday  School  and  Secretary  of 
the  mission  to  Porto  Rico? 

CAINE.  (Rises  and  goes  close  to  LEAVITT.)  Yes,  and 
President  of  the  Universal  Engraving  Company  with  (In 
a  loud  whisper.)  an  occasional  deal  in  banknotes  on  the 
side. 

LEAVITT.  (Puts  his  hand  over  CAINE' s  mouth.')  Sh! 
you  blamed  idiot ! 

81 


82  THREE    PLAYS 

CAINE.  (With  a  laugh.)  Don't  get  scared,  old  top! 
This  room  is  built  to  prevent  eavesdroppers,  as  Waters 
and  his  clients  meet  here  for  many  a  big  deal,  which  not 
even  I  can  get  a  line  on  until  it's  worked  out  on  the  street. 

LEAVITT.  (Angrily.)  Don't  do  it — it  makes  me 
nervous. 

CAINE.  Cut  the  jawing,  and  come  to  business.  I 
expect  Mr.  Waters  back  any  minute,  and  he  mustn't  find 
you  here.  (The  telephone  rings.  He  goes  to  it.)  Hello! 
Yes,  sir.  (Pause.)  Very  nearly  finished  the  rough  draft. 
(Pause.)  In  half  an  hour — all  right,  sir.  (Hangs  up 
receiver..) 

LEAVITT.     Is  that  Waters? 

CAINE.     Yes,  he'll  be  here  in  half  an  hour,  and  I've  got 
some  work  to  do,  so  hurry  up  and  get  out. 
LEAVITT.      (Examining  envelope  on  desk.)     First  tell  me 
who  addressed  this  envelope. 

CAINE.  Oh,  that!  Miss  Morris,  daughter  of  old 
Morris  of  the  Washington  Bank.  She's  a  wonder  with  a 
pen. 

LEAVITT.  Yes,  a  wonder.  As  an  engraver,  this  caught 
my  eye. 

CAINE.  (Laughs  as  he  zvalks  to  desk.)  Yes,  it's  like 
copper-plate.  What  do  you  think  of  this?  (Takes  en 
velope  from  his  desk  and  hands  it  to  LEAVITT.) 

LEAVITT.  (Reads.)  Edward  Waters  Esq.,  Com 
monwealth  Avenue,  Boston.  (CAINE  hands  him  a  check 
from  a  number  on  the  desk.)  Same  handwriting. 

CAINE.     Look  again — you're  an  expert. 

LEAVITT.  (Examining  closely.)  Dash  it,  man,  the 
name,  Edward  Waters,  is  exactly  the  same  in  both  cases. 

CAINE.  You're  wrong!  Waters  signed  the  check, 
and  Miss  Morris  wrote  the  address  for  fun. 

LEAVITT.  (Examining  with  a  magnifying  glass  from 
the  table. )  Phew !  She's  a  genius !  I  wish  I  could  get 
her. 

CAINE.     (Puts  envelope,   etc.,   back   on  desk.)     Rot, 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  83 

man !  Waters  is  dead  gone  on  her,  and  she'll  probably 
be  his  wife  before  the  leaves  begin  to  fall. 

LEAVITT.  What  a  pity  such  talent  should  be  wasted! 
Why  don't  you  make  a  bid  for  her  yourself? 

CAINE.  (Bitterly.)  I've  tried  to  make  a  hit  with  her, 
but  what  chance  have  I  against  the  rich  and  famous 
philanthropist,  Edward  Waters?  She's  a  beauty,  too, 
and  I'd  marry  her  if  she  couldn't  write  her  own  name. 

LEAVITT.     (Sits  down.)     It's  a  pity,  but  never  say  die. 

CAINE.     Forget  it!     Now  come  to  business. 

LEAVITT.  (Looking  at  watch.)  Well,  Jones  and  I 
have  a  deal  on,  and  we  want  you  to  come  in  for  a  bit — a 
thousand  will  do. 

CAINE.  I  can't  do  it !  I'm  nearly  five  thousand  behind 
now,  and  I'll  have  to  say  goodbye  to  Boston  before  July 
first,  unless  something  turns  up. 

LEAVITT.     How's  that? 

CAINE.  You  dear  innocent!  You  know  darned  well 
I  lost  more  money  since  Christmas  than  my  salary  for 
two  years  would  make  up. 

LEAVITT.     Well  ? 

CAINE.  Well,  I  just  borrowed  a  few  "bearer"  bonds 
from  the  vault,  which  will  be  missed  when  the  governor 
goes  to  cut  his  coupons  on  July  first. 

LEAVITT.  Don't  worry!  There's  plenty  of  time  to 
make  good  before  then.  Why  can't  you  borrow  a  few 
more  of  those  "bearer"  bonds? 

CAINE.  No  go !  There's  nothing  there  at  present  that 
could  be  sold  quickly  without  risk. 

LEAVITT.  I'm  sorry  you're  out  of  this,  Caine,  it's 
surely  a  good  thing.  (Rises.)  Goodbye.  (Telephone 
rings. ) 

CAINE.  (Goes  to  telephone.)  Yes,  Mr.  Rich,  I  rec 
ognise  your  voice.  (Pause.)  Not  home  yet,  sir.  (Pause.) 
I  don' t  quite  catch  what  you  say.  (Pause.)  Pearls. 
Wait  until  you  come.  Mrs.  and  Miss  Morris  and  Miss 
Lord.  All  right,  sir.  (Hangs  up  receiver.) 


84  THREE    PLAYS 

LEAVITT.  (On  hearing  the  word  "pearls"  has  turned 
back  from  the  door.)  Is  that  Waters? 

CAINE.  No,  that's  his  chum,  Rich.  He's  bringing  his 
famous  pearls  here  after  the  show. 

LEAVITT.     Bring  his  pearls  here? 

CAINE.     Yes. 

LEAVITT.     How's  that? 

CAINE.  His  fiancee  wore  the  necklace  to  the  show. 
He  wants  Waters  to  put  it  in  his  safe  until  tomorrow, 
and  then  deposit  it  in  the  vaults. 

LEAVITT.     Why  doesn't  he  do  it  himself? 

CAINE.  He  sails  for  Europe  in  the  morning,  and 
Waters  is  his  trustee.  The  necklace  is  said  to  be  worth 
$50,000. 

LEAVITT.  •  Jerusalem !  What  a  prize !  Can't  we  get  it 
tonight?  We  must,  man.  That's  your  chance  to  get 
square ! 

CAINE.     No !  No !  Too  much  risk. 

LEAVITT.  No  risk  at  all!  Leave  it  to  me.  I'll  come 
back,  and  be  in  the  street — drop  them  out  of  the  window. 
(Points.) 

CAINE.  (Angrily.)  It  can't  be  done!  (Pauses.) 
And  even  if  we  got  them,  we  couldn't  get  rid  of  them. 

LEAVITT.  Leave  that  to  your  Uncle  Joe.  I'll  give  you 
$5000  now  if  you  promise  to  drop  the  necklace  into  the 
street.  That'll  be  your  share.  I'll  take  the  risk  of  dis 
posing  of  the  pearls  one  by  one. 

CAINE.  (Hesitatingly.)  Well,  if  I  see  a  safe  chance, 
I  may  take  it. 

LEAVITT.  (Takes  out  pocketbook  and  check-book. 
Sits  at  table. )  Here's  a  thousand,  and  ( Writes  in  check 
book)  here  are  four  checks  for  a  thousand  each,  the  first 
dated  tomorrow,  and  three  days  apart  for  the  others. 
Goodbye.  (Goes  toward  door.)  Here,  take  my  glove 
(a  large  gauntlet)  put  them  in  that  when  you  get  a 
chance,  and  drop  them  through  the  window — I'll  be  there. 
(£*&) 

CAINE.     It's  an  awful  risk — and  I  won't  do  it.     Damn 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  85 

Leavitt,  he'll  get  me  hanged  yet,  unless  I'm  careful. 
(Goes  back  to  desk  and  writes.)  Oh!  this  poverty  and 
drudgery!  Will  it  never  end? 

[Enter  EDWARD  WATERS.] 

WATERS.     Hello,  Caine,  not  finished  yet? 

CAINE.  (Stands  up.)  Not  quite,  sir;  it  will  only  take 
a  few  minutes. 

WATERS.  You're  not  looking  well,  Caine — working 
too  hard.  You  must  take  a  few  weeks'  vacation  in  the 
woods. 

CAINE.  Oh,  I'm  all  right,  thank  you,  sir — just  a  head 
ache. 

WATERS.  Well,  don't  do  any  more  this  afternoon,  we'll 
finish  it  in  the  morning.  Tell  Smith  to  call  me  at  seven — 
I  must  be  at  the  pier  at  eight  to  see  Mr.  Rich  off. 

CAINE.  (Goes  to  door,  stops,  and  comes  back.)  Oh, 
pardon  me,  I  was  nearly  forgetting.  Mr.  Rich  is  coming 
here  to  see  you.  He  wants  to  leave  his  pearls. 

WATERS.     His  pearls ! 

.CAINE.     Yes,  sir. 

WATERS.  What  on  earth  is  Jack  doing  with  his  grand 
mother's  pearls  at  this  time  of  day?  (Laughing.)  You 
don't  mean  to  say  that  he  has  been  wearing  them  ? 

CAINE.  (Laughing.)  No,  sir,  but  MiSs  Lord  has. 
He  told  me  to  say  that  Mrs.  and  Miss  Morris  were  also 
in  his  party,  and  that  he  would  try  to  bring  them  all  in  to 
call  on  you  as  they  passed,  and  to  be  sure  and  have  some 
dinner  ready. 

WATERS.  (Delightedly.)  What  a  nerve  he  has  !  Run 
along,  Caine,  and  see  what  can  be  done  with  the  cook, 
and  tell  Smith  to  get  up  a  bottle  of  '74  from  the  cellar. 

CAINE.  (Goes  to  door.)  And  he  said  that  Miss 
Morris  told  him  to  say  that  unless  the  dinner  was  good, 
there'd  be  a  riot  in  the  house.  (Exit.) 

WATERS.  (Laughing.)  Oh,  what  a  dear,  sweet, 
clever  little  girl  she  is  !  (Sighs.)  Ah !  if  she  would  only 
care  for  a  dusty  old  bachelor  like  me  what  a  difference 
it  would  make  in  my  life.  (Enter  CAINE.) 


86  THREE    PLAYS 

CAINE.     There  are  a  few  letters,  sir. 

[Hands  letters  to  WATERS.] 

WATERS.  (Opens  one.)  Ah!  one  from  your  prede 
cessor,  Caine. 

CAINE.  (At  desk.)  Yes,  sir.  He  was  a  thief,  sir, 
wasn't  he? 

WATERS.     Yes.     Read  it  aloud. 

[Hands  letter  to  CAINE,  who  steps  down  by  table.} 

CAINE.  (Reads.)  "Dear  Sir:  Knowing  your  good 
heart  and  broad  mind,  I  write  without  apology.  I  want 
your  assistance  to  enable  me  to  live.  I  have  been  out 
of  prison  nearly  a  year,  and,  owing  to  the  fact  that  my 
prison  record  keeps  cropping  up  against  me,  I  cannot  get 
permanent  work.  I  have  had  eight  situations  since  I  left 
the  prison,  but  each  time,  my  employer,  in  some  way, 
found  out  my  past,  and  dismissed  me  without  a  word. 
I  can  get  no  references,  and  the  police  of  New  York  and 
Boston  have  arrested  me  three  times,  as  a  suspect,  without 
any  reason ;  and,  after  causing  me  to  lose  two  hard-won 
places,  warned  me  to  leave  those  cities.  That  was  my 
compensation !  True,  I  have  been  a  criminal  and  a  con 
vict!  I  stole  $5000  from  you — but  I  paid  the  penalty 
for  my  crime,  and  it  is  unfair  for  society  to  hound  me 
down.  I  have  had  my  lesson,  and  I  have  tried,  before 
God  and  man,  to  avoid  breaking  the  law.  I  am  now 
desperate,  and  unless  you  help  me  to  get  work — honest 
work — I  will  choose  crime  as  my  profession,  and  live 
on  or  off  society  which  has  refused  to  give  me  a  chance 
to  exist.  Yours  respectfully,  John  Mooney." 

WATERS.     Well,  Caine? 

CAINE.  Very  impertinent,  I  should  say.  Shall  I  send 
it  to  the  police? 

WATERS.  Get  your  book,  and  take  this  letter.  (CAINE 
gets  dictation  book  from  desk.  Sits  at  desk.  WATERS 
dictates.)  To  all  whom  it  may  concern.  The  bearer, 
John  Merchant — 

CAINE.     John  Mooney,  sir. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  87 

WATERS.  John  Merchant — he  will  need  a  new  name  to 
hide  his  past  record.  Go  on. 

CAINE.     Yes,  sir. 

WATERS.  — was  in  my  employ  for  six  years  as  confi 
dential  clerk  and  secretary.  He  left  my  service  to  take 
up  work  for  the  government  as  his  health  was  not  suited 
to  office  work. 

CAINE.  Ah  ha,  that's  a  good  joke,  sir,  and  serve  him 
right  for  his  nerve. 

WATERS.  (Smiling.)  'Twas  no  joke  for  him,  poor 
devil.  (Continues  dictating.)  I  strongly  recommend 
him  to  anyone  wanting  a  good  shipping-clerk,  or  for  other 
similar  work,  and  I  am  ready  at  any  time  to  give  bond 
for  his  honesty  and  good  behaviour  to  the  extent  of  $1000. 
Sincerely — 

CAINE.     By  Jove,  that  is  good  of  you! 

WATERS.  Not  at  all,  Caine.  I  believe  the  man  has 
been  punished  enough  for  his  mistake,  and  that  he  should 
get  a  good  chance. 

CAINE.  But  a  man  or  woman  who  sins  once,  will  sin 
more  easily  the  second  time. 

WATERS.  I  don't  agree  with  you  altogether.  Most 
people  prefer  to  be  honest,  and  lots  of  them  are  driven 
to  wrong  by  environment  and  force  of  circumstances, 
and  if  the  same  circumstances  were  applied  to  some  of 
ourselves,  we,  too,  would  go  down  as  before  the  waters 
of  Niagara.  What  virtue  can  I  claim  for  being  honest? 
I  have  never  felt  the  want  of  anything  in  my  life.  Why 
should  you  claim  superior  virtue  to  the  beggar  who 
hungers  for  bread,  and  craves  for  a  glass  of  beer  outside 
the  door  of  the  saloon?  Your  week's  salary  would  buy 
the  whole  stock  of  the  baker,  or  enough  beer  to  swim  in. 

CAINE.  But  men  who  are  rich  and  prosperous  some 
times  steal,  and  wealthy  ladies  are  sometimes  shoplifters. 

WATERS.     (With  a  smile.)     Kleptomaniacs,  Caine. 

CAINE.  Well,  kleptomaniacs.  Doesn't  that  upset  your 
theory  ? 

WATERS.     No,  it  strengthens  it.     When  one  hungers 


88  THREE    PLAYS 

for  a  luxury — for  something  that  is  really  unnecessary 
to  life  or  happiness — it  is  a  state  of  a  diseased  mind — a 
morbid  condition  that  should  be  treated  by  an  alienist 
in  a  sanitarium,  rather  than  by  the  club  of  a  policeman 
and  the  shame  of  the  police  court.  For  instance,  if  you 
were  to  covet  the  bonds  and  stocks  in  my  safe  (CAINE 
starts  and  grips  the  table  for  support. )  you  would  in  time 
lose  your  self-control,  and  might  be  tempted  to  steal  my 
property. 

CAINE.     Never,  sir! 

WATERS.  Well,  you're  a  purist,  and  won't  be  argued 
round,  but  I'm  going  to  help  Mooney  just  the  same. 
Write  to  him. 

CAINE.     Yes,  sir. 

WATERS.  (Dictating.)  I  enclose  my  check  for  $50 
and  a  recommendation,  which  I  hope  will  help  you  to  get 
another  job  under  a  new  name  and  to  hold  it.  With 
best  wishes,  I  am,  Yours  truly. 

CAINE.     Right,  sir. 

WATERS.  Make  out  a  check,  and  I  will  sign  it  in  the 
morning'. 

[Enter  SERVANT.] 

SERVANT.  (Announces.)  Mrs.  and  Miss  Morris, 
Miss  Lord,  and  Mr.  Rich. 

[Enter  as   above.     Exit   SERVANT.     All  shake   hands 
with  WATERS  and  bow  to  CAINE.] 

JACK.  Well,  old  duffer,  you  missed  a  treat  by  not 
accepting  my  invitation  this  afternoon. 

WATERS.  (To  DORA.)  Why  didn't  you  let  me  know 
who  were  to  be  in  your  party? 

DORA.  Ah !  that  was  to  be  a  surprise,  and  we  expected 
you  till  almost  the  end. 

[MRS.  MORRIS  sits  down.] 

WATERS.  I  had  an  important  meeting  to  attend,  but 
I  certainly  should  have  broken  it  up,  if  I  had  known  you 
were  to  be  there. 

JACK.     We  had  a  bully  time. 

HELEN.     And  Jack  was  the  centre  of  attraction. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  89 

JACK.  Yes,  the  ladies  were  the  attraction,  and  I  was 
in  the  centre. 

DORA.  But  Mr.  Waters  is  so  busy — we  oughtn't  to 
stay  any  longer.  Come,  Mother,  let  us  be  going. 

[She  turns  to  MRS.  MORRIS,  -who  rises  and  sits  down 
again.  ] 

WATERS.  No,  no,  please  don't  go  yet;  Caine  has  or 
dered  some  dinner. 

JACK.  Not  on  your  life!  We're  going  to  remain,  and 
keep  old  stay-at-home  up  till  three  in  the  morning. 

HELEN.  Make  it  six,  and  then  we  can  go  straight  to 
the  boat  and  see  you  off. 

DORA.  Then  we  should  be  the  centre  of  attraction  in 
these  dresses. 

WATERS.     And  sleepy  eyes. 

HELEN.     And  grandmother's  pearls. 

JACK.  Oh,  the  pearls,  by  Jove!  My  dear  old  grand- 
dam  will  turn  over  in  her  grave !  Her  last  injunction  was 
that  they  were  never  to  be  worn  until  my  wife  should 
place  them  round  her  neck. 

WATERS.  (Laughing.)  And  weren't  you  afraid  to 
break  her  injunction? 

DORA.  Helen  gave  him  no  peace  until  she  had  worn 
them. 

JACK.  Well,  she'll  be  my  wife  in  June — so  soon  that 
the  old  lady  won't  know  the  difference.  Don't  they  say 
that  three  months  there  is  only  like  the  fraction  of  a 
second  here? 

HELEN.  Oh  dear,  I  hope  it  won't  bring  bad  luck ! 
I'm  sorry  I've  had  them  now. 

WATERS.  (Joins  DORA  at  piano.)  I'm  deeply  sorry 
I  missed  being  with  you  this  afternoon. 

DORA.  So  are  we — all  of  us.  Mother  was  dozing 
most  of  the  time,  and  Jack  and  Helen  had  thoughts  for 
no  one  but  themselves. 

WATERS.  What  a  donkey  Jack  is!  Why  didn't  he 
tell  me?  He  called  me  up  at  noon,  and  said  he  was 
getting  a  crowd  together  for  lunch  and  .the  show. 


90  THREE    PLAYS 

DORA.  (Laughing.)  And  you  didn't  appreciate 
spending  three  or  four  hours  with  one  of  Jack's 
"crowds"? 

WATERS.  Three  or  four  hours!  Why,  my  dear  girl, 
eight  or  ten  hours  would  be  more  nearly  the  time.  I've 
been  through  it  once  or  twice ! 

DORA.     Well,  next  time,  you'll  know  better. 

WATERS.  (With  a  grimace.)  Next  time  I  may  accept, 
and  find  myself  with  a  crowd  of  young  bloods,  from 
whom  it  will  be  impossible  to  get  away  before  daylight. 

DORA.  (Laughingly.)  But  a  little  relaxation  would 
do  you  good!  Is  it  well  to  take  life  too  seriously? 

WATERS.  Life  is  serious — a  thinking  person  can't 
forget  that  for  very  long. 

DORA.  I  tried  to  joke  Papa  to  come  to  the  theatre  with 
us  last  night,  and  he  nearly  took  my  head  off  at  first,  and 
then  he  broke  down  and  actually  sobbed.  His  health 
worries  us,  and  we  can't  get  him  to  take  a  vacation. 
Surely  that  kind  of  life  isn't  desirable? 

WATERS.  The  money-market  is  very  unsettled,  and  his 
bank  is  loaned  up  heavily.  His  duties  as  president  are 
very  trying. 

DORA.  (As  they  leave  piano.)  He  is  a  slave!  I 
would  rather  be  poor  than  lead  a  life  like  his.  He  never 
forgets  his  business,  and  poor  Mother  is  almost  a  wreck 
too,  from  worrying  about  him. 

MRS.  MORRIS.  Mr.  Caine,  won't  you  get  me  a  glass 
of  water? 

CAINE.     Certainly,  Mrs.  Morris.     (Exits.) 

WATERS.  (Who  has  heard,  to  DORA.)  Perhaps  you 
would  like  something  to  drink? 

DORA.  Thank  you,  a  little  milk  and  soda,  if  it's  not 
too  much  trouble. 

WATERS.     Let's  go  to  the  dining-room. 

[Exeunt  MRS.  MORRIS,  DORA,  WATERS  and  CAINE. 
JACK  leaves  window  to  follow.} 

HELEN.     Where  are  you  going, Jack? 

JACK.    Oh,  I'm  going  to  follow  the  crowd — come  along. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  91 

HELEN.  I  don't  want  to  follow  the  crowd— I  prefer  to 
stay  here. 

JACK.     But  don't  you  want  something  to  drink? 

[Laughter  is  heard  from  dining-room.  JACK  makes  a 
step  or  two  towards  exit.} 

HELEN.  (Peevishly.)  Jack,  come  here !  We  haven't 
had  a  moment  together  since  Saturday. 

JACK.  Why,  you  dear,  sweet  little  goose,  we've  been 
together  since  noontime. 

HELEN.     (Poutingly,  sits  at  piano.)     Yes,  in  a  crowd! 

JACK.  (Goes  to  her,  puts  his  arm  round  her  waist,  and 
takes  her  hand.  She  does  not  respond.)  But,  my 
dearest,  you  don't  call  Mrs.  Morris  and  Dora  a  crowd? 

HELEN.  Yes,  I  do,  and  you  spoilt  the  whole  afternoon 
for  me  by  inviting  them. 

JACK.     Why,  good  gracious,  I  believe  you're  jealous! 

HELEN.  (Pulls  away  from  him.)  I  have  nothing  to 
be  jealous  of!  Jealous,  indeed! 

JACK.     Of  course  not!     It's  too  funny! 

HELEN.  Yes  I  have,  too !  It  isn't  at  all  funny !  You 
and  Dora  gabbled  away  all  the  afternoon,  and  I  might 
have  been  in  the  moon  for  all  the  attention  you  paid  me. 

JACK.  Now,  Helen,  do  be  sensible !  You  know  I  love 
you  better  than  any  one  else  in  the  world  or  I  wouldn't 
want  to  marry  you.  (He  puts  his  arm  round  her  waist, 
and  she  snuggles  up  to  him.)  But,  I've  known  Dora 
since  we  were  kiddies  together,  and,  after  you,  she's  the 
best  woman  friend  I  have. 

HELEN.  (Breaks  away  from  him,  and  stamps  her 
foot.)'  Go  away  from  me!  I  believe  you  love  her,  and 
not  me,  and  I  hate  her. 

JACK.  Helen !  Sweetheart !  Do  be  calm !  They  will 
hear  you ! 

HELEN.     I  don't  care  who  hears  me ! 

JACK.  (Seriously.)  Helen  dear,  this  grieves  me  more 
than  I  can  say. 

HELEN.     Well,  you  oughtn't  to  let  her  flirt  with  you. 


92  •  THREE    PLAYS 

JACK.  (Takes  her  arm.)  I  hear  them  returning.  It 
would  never  do  for  them  to  see  you  like  this. 

HELEN.  (Snappishly  from  door.)  I  don't  care  what 
happens. 

[Exit,  followed  by  JACK,  who  shrugs  his  shoulders, 
and  looks  at  the  ceiling  with  an  expression  of  puzzled 
despair.  Enter  CAINE.] 

CAINE.  Not  a  chance  to  put  my  fingers  on  the  pearls. 
(Goes  to  window.)  Ah!  there's  Leavitt,  under  a  tree 
watching  every  shadow  like  a  hawk.  But  I  may  as  well 
send  him  back  his  checks,  because  there's  no  chance  of 
bagging  the  game  tonight  without  taking  a  risk.  (Shakes 
fist  towards  the  window. )  Ah,  Leavitt,  you  dog,  you  and 
poverty  make  a  team  that  will  haul  me  to  wealth — or  the 
penetentiary. 

[Goes  down  to  piano  with  hand  to  head.  Enter  DORA 
and  WATERS.  ] 

DORA.  (To  CAINE.)  How  tired  you  look,  Mr.  Caine. 
Are  you  feeling  unwell? 

CAINE.  Oh  no,  not  at  all,  Miss  Morris — just  a  slight 
headache. 

WATERS.  I'm  afraid  you're  overworking,  Caine,  and 
I  must  insist  you  take  a  long  vacation  soon. 

CAINE.  To  work  hard  for  you  is  a  pleasure,  Mr. 
Waters. 

WATERS.  Thank  you,  Caine.  And  now,  won't  you 
join  Mrs.  Morris — I'm  afraid  she's  alone  in  the  dining- 
room.  (Exit  CAINE.) 

DORA.  (Sits  on  sofa.)  Your  secretary  seems  a 
treasure. 

WATERS.  Yes,  a  thoroughly  good  fellow,  hard-work 
ing,  conscientious,  and  with  unusual  ability. 

DORA.     You're  lucky  to  have  such  a  faithful  servant. 

WATERS.  (With  a  sigh.)  Yes,  I  suppose  I  am  a 
lucky  fellow.  I  have  everything  in  the  world  I  could 
wish  for — 

DORA.      ( Questioningly. )     Yes  ? 

WATERS.     Yes, — except  my  heart's  desire. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  93 

DORA.     Your  heart's  desire?     And  that  is — ? 

WATERS.  And  that  is  a  woman's  love — the  woman's 
love.  Ah,  Dora,  if  I  could  only  find  heart  to  tell  you 
how  I  sit  here  in  these  big  rooms,  dreaming  and  wishing, 
and  dreaming  again  of  what  might  be  were  the  shadows 
of  life  lightened  by  the  magic  touch  of  a  loving  hand. 

DORA.  If  your  dream  is  of  a  real  mortal,  and  not  of 
a  poetic  ideal,  she  should  be  happy. 

WATERS.  (Stands  over  her,  makes  movement  as  if  to 
brace  himself  to  take  her  hand  and  embrace  her.)  Do 
you  think  an  old  duffer  of  my  staid  habits'  could  really 
make  a  beautiful  girl,  who  has  been  used  to  admiration 
and  adulation,  happy? 

DORA.  To  a  true  woman,  admiration  and  adulation 
are  like  the  leaves  of  an  oak,  which  are  forgotten  with 
the  season  that  bred  them.  But  the  love  of  the  man  she 
loves  is  like  the  trunk  of  the  tree,  which  spreads  its  roots 
far  into  Mother  Earth,  and  grows  in  solidity  and  strength 
with  each  advancing  year. 

[WATERS  takes  a  step  towards  her  with  out-stretched 
arms  and  beaming  face,  but  is  interrupted  by  the 
entrance  of  HELEN  and  JACK.  WATERS  makes  a 
movement  of  anger,  and  frowns  at  JACK.  DORA 
walks  towards  HELEN.] 

JACK.  Hello,  old  chap,  what's  the  matter?  Aren't  you 
feeling  well? 

WATERS.     (Impatiently.)     Oh,  yes,  yes. 

JACK.  But  you  look  sick!  Let  me  get  you  a  brandy 
and  soda. 

WATERS.  Say,  old  chap,  I'll  punch  your  head  off  if 
you  don't  get  out  of  here  for  ten  minutes — and  take 
Helen  with  you.  Now,  don't  stop  to  argue  with  me,  but 
get  out.  I've  got  to  talk  over  important  business  with 
Miss  Morris. 

JACK.  (Whistles  and  winks.)  Oh,  I'm  wise  to  the 
game!  Just  watch  me!  Say,  Helen,  come  into  the 


94  THREE    PLAYS 

dining-room,  I  want  to  show  you  all  the  pots  Waters  won 
when  he  was  at  Harvard. 

[Enter  CAINE.     Goes  to  desk.] 

HELEN.  Oh,  I've  seen  them  a  hundred  times!  I'd 
much  rather  you  took  me  home. 

JACK.     But  we've  come  to  stay  to  dinner. 

WATERS.  Oh,  yes,  you  mustn't  think  of  going  till  after 
dinner. 

[Enter  MRS.  MORRIS.] 

DORA.  And  don't  forget  to  leave  the  pearls,  Helen. 
You  can't  have  them  till  you're  married,  you  know. 

HELEN.  Oh  yes,  I  know  all  about  that !  I  wish  I  had 
never  worn  them. 

[Takes  necklace  off,  and  throws  it  on  table.} 

WATERS.  They're  beauties  and  worth  a  queen's  ran 
som,  but  they  are  neither  too  rare  nor  too  beautiful  for 
Miss  Lord. 

HELEN.  (Smiling.)  There,  Jack,  that's  the  way  to 
frame  and  pay  a  compliment. 

DORA.  (Takes  pearls  in  her  hand.)  They  are  fasci 
nating — beautiful,  and  have  a  value  far  beyond  their 
intrinsic  worth.  I  would  be  almost  tempted  to  steal  them 
if  it  were  safe. 

JACK.  Your  beauty,  Dora,  needs  no  ornament  to  en 
hance-  it.  Their  beauty  grows  dim  and  their  contour 
uneven,  beside  the  natural  beauty  of  your  throat. 

WATERS.  Bravo,  Jack!  Helen  ought  to  take  back 
what  she  said. 

[WATERS  pairs  with  MRS.  MORRIS  and  JACK  with 
HELEN.  DORA  places  necklace  on  table  and  goes  to 
piano.  CAINE  takes  necklace  and  slips  it  in  the 
glove,  walks  to  window  and  drops  glove  out.  Tele 
phone  rings.  CAINE  answers.] 

CAINE.  Hold  the  wire.  (Goes  to  DORA  and  speaks  in 
a  low  voice.)  Some  one  at  your  house  wishes  to  speak 
to  you,  Miss  Morris,  and  asked  me  to  say  that  you  must 
brace  up,  and  prepare  for  a  slight  shock. 

DORA.     Mercy  on  me,  what  can  the  matter  be?     (Goes 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  95 

to  telephone.)  Hello,  yes,  Dr.  Smith.  (Pause.)  Yes, 
tell  me  quickly,  Doctor.  (Pause.)  Oh,  dear,  poor 
Mother.  (Staggers  and  CAINE  supports  her.  Hands  her 
glass  of  water,  which  she  drinks.  To  CAINE.)  You 
speak  to  him,  and  tell  him  I  am  coming  at  once. 

CAINE.  (At  telephone.)  She  is  coming  at  once. 
(Hangs  up  receiver.  To  DORA.)  Be  brave,  Miss  Morris. 
Can  I  do  anything? 

DORA.  Yes,  help  me  to  slip  away  quietly,  and  tell  Mr. 
Waters  my  father  is  ill— dying.  I  will  send  the  carriage 
back  for  mother. 

CAINE.  Go  this  w*v — it  will  attract  less  attention. 
(DORA  exit.) 

JACK.  (At  end  of  tune.)  Good  girl,  you're  a  treasure. 
I  just  love  that  tune.  But  where' s  the  dinner,  old 
skinflint  ? 

WATERS.  We'll  go  to  the  dining-room  and  see  what 
we  can  get. 

MRS.  MORRIS.     Where's  Dora? 

WATERS.     She  was  here  a  moment  ago. 

HELEN.     (Looking  about.)     And  where's  the  ncklace? 

JACK.  Oh,  old  Waters  has  put  that  away  safe  enough. 
Let  us  go  to  dinner. 

WATERS.  You're  mistaken,  man,  I  haven't  got  the 
necklace.  You  must  have  put  it  in  your  pocket. 

JACK.  Oh,  jolly  rot,  I  haven't  seen  it  for  an  hour. 
But,  it's  all  right.  We'll  get  it  after  dinner. 

WATERS.  Better  find  it  now.  Have  you  seen  it, 
Caine? 

CAINE.     Yes,  in  Miss  Morris's  hand  a  few  minutes  ago. 

MRS.  MORRIS.     But  where  has  Dora  gone  to? 

CAINE.     She  has  gone  home,  Mrs.  Morris. 

HELEN.  There's  the  carriage  starting  now.  Call  her 
back,  it  may  get  lost.  (Rushes  to  window.)  James! 
James !  He  doesn't  hear  me !  Oh,  please,  some  of  you 
men,  come  and  shout  or  whistle. 

JACK  Anything  to  please  you,  but  what's  the  use  of 
spoiling  dinner  with  this  fuss  ?  ( Whistles  loudly  with  his 


96  THREE    PLAYS 

fingers. )    Ay  what !    Wasn't  that  a  good  one  ?    I  thought 
Fct  forgotten  how  to  do  the  trick. 

HELEN.  The  carriage  has  stopped.  Now,  Jack,  shout 
for  him  to  return, 

JACK.      (Shouting.}     Hello,  there,  come  back  a  minute. 

HELEN.     It's  coming  back. 

[All  gather  about  the  window,  except  CAINE.] 

JACK.  I  say,  Dora,  don't  run  away  with  my  bally 
necklace — or  the  old  grand  dame  will  come  out  and  spank 
me. 

DORA.     (Outside.)     I  haven't  got  it. 

JACK.  What,  really?  I  wonder  where  it  is!  (Feels 
in  his  pockets.  All  do  the  same.) 

HELEN.  But,  you  must  have  it,  Dora !  Please  see  if 
you  haven't  put  it  in  your  pocket  by  mistake.  Nobody 
here  has  it  and  it  can't  be  found. 

DORA.  I  placed  it  on  the  table — I  remember  distinctly, 
and  I  haven't  seen  it  since.  Look  on  the  floor — it  must 
have  fallen  under  the  table. 

[JACK    looks   under    table.     CAINE   pretends    to    look 
about  the  piano.] 

MRS.  MORRIS.  This  is  terrible!  Come  t>ack,  Dora 
dear.  Why  do  you  wish  to  hurry  away  like  this? 

DORA.  I'm  not  well,  Mother,  and  I  must  get  home  at 
once.  I  will  send  the  carriage  back. 

HELEN.  But  the  necklace!  You  can't  go  until  it  is 
found,  Dora. 

JACK.  Oh,  keep  still,  Helen.  Let  it  go — we'll  find  it 
all  right. 

CAINE.  (Aside  to  WATERS.)  I  think  I  saw  Miss 
Morris  slip  the  necklace  in  the  front  of  her  dress.'  She 
must  have  forgotten. 

WATERS.  Damn  you,  shut  up!  (CAINE  shrugs  his 
shoulders.)  Please  come  back,  Miss  Dora.  We  must 
clear  up  this  mystery  at  once. 

DORA.  Great  Heavens,  I'll  lose  my  mind !  Don't  you 
know  that  it  is  important  that  I  get  home  at  once? 

WATERS.     Really,  Miss  Morris,  I  must  ask  that  you 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  97 

come  back  at  once.  I  must  ask  you  to  help  us  find  the 
pearls. 

DORA.  Oh,  is  there  no  pity?  I  will  come  up.  (Enters 
in  a  minute.) 

JACK.  (To  WATERS.)  I  don't  understand  this  busi 
ness,  old  chap,  but  I'm  sure  the  ladies. know  nothing  about 
it.  Can't  we  send  them  home,  and  take  time'  to  think  it 
over? 

WATERS.  No  Jack,  it's  better  to  face  the  trouble.  It 
will  be  easier  to  solve  the  riddle  now  than  tomorrow. 
(Enter  DORA.) 

HELEN.  (Who  is  semi-hysterical.)  Oh,  Dora,  how 
could  you. 

DORA.  In  God's  name,  find  your  pearls,  and  let  me 
go  home. 

MRS.  MORRIS.  My  poor  girlie,  what  does  it  all  mean? 
Why  did  you  want  to  run  away? 

DORA.  Don't  ask  me  now,  Mother.  Let  us  find  the 
necklace  so  that  I  can  go  home. 

HELEN.  Find  it?  Why  don't  you  find  it?  You  have 
hidden  it ! 

JACK.  Keep  still,  Helen !  We'll  find  it  all  right,  and 
even  if  we  don't.. it  doesn't  matter — there  are  lots  more 
where  it  came  from. 

HELEN.  I  won't  keep  still,  Jack  Rich — I'll  speak  my 
mind.  Dora  has  the  necklace  and  she  wanted  to  run 
home  with  it,  and  I'll  never  speak  to  her  again — there! 
(JACK  leads  her  Jo  corner  near  window,  where  she  sobs.) 

DORA.  This  is  outrageous !  I  know  nothing  about  the 
necklace!  Please  find  it,  Mr.  Waters  and  let  me  get 
away. 

WATERS.  We  have  searched  everywhere  and  it  can 
not  be  found. 

DORA.  But,  surely  you  don't  think  that  I  have  taken 
it?  (Breaks  down.)  Oh,  Mother,  take  me  home. 
(Braces  up.)  Speak,  sir,  do  you  think  I  am  a  thief? 

WATERS.     No — hardly  that — but — you  see— 

DORA.     Yes,  I  see !     You  don't  want  to  believe  it,  but 


98  THREE    PLAYS 

the  evidence  convicts  me  without  trial.     Why  don't  you 
send  for  the  police? 

WATERS.     Please  be  reasonable!     I  am  one  of  your 
oldest  friends — a  friend  of  your  father. 

DORA.     (Crying.)     Oh,  my  poor  father!     He,  also,  is 
a  thief. 

[Newsboys  are  heard  crying  "Extra"} 

WATERS.     Please  be  calm.     No  doubt  you  can  explain 
everything. 

DORA.    Oh,  my  poor  father !    Let  me  go  home. 

HELEN.     If  you  are  innocent,  why  are  you  so  anxious 
to  go  home? 

[Newsboys  call  "Extra,  extra,  suicide  of  John  Morris."} 

DORA.     There's  the  story.     (MRS.  MORRIS  faints.) 

JACK.  (Runs  to  window,  brings  back  paper,  and 
reads.)  John  Morris  commits  suicide  in  his  office. 
Leaves  letter  confessing  defalcation  of  over  a  million. 
Bank  will  not  open  tomorrow.  (To  DORA..)  Come,  Dora, 
'.  will  help  you  to  the  carriage.  Waters,  help  Mrs. 
Morris.  (To  HELEN.)  Helen,  not  another  word  of 
this,  or  we  part  for  ever. 

CURTAIN 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  99 

ACT  II. 
SCENE  I. 

[Office  of  the  Universal  Engraving  Company.  One 
month  later.  LEAVITT  at  desk.  Enter  CLERK  who 
announces  "Mr.  Caine".] 

LEAVITT.     (Writing.)     Tell  him  to  come  in. 
[Enter  CAINE.     They  shake  hands.] 
Well,  Caine,  what  can  I  do  for  you  today? 

CAINE.     You  can  lend  me  $1000. 

LEAVITT.  (Jokingly.)  I  can — but  I  won't.  I  never 
saw  such  a  man  as  you — you're  always  wanting  money. 

CAINE.  Yes,  and  I  always  shall  want  it.  And,  in  this 
case,  I  must  get  it,  old  man. 

LEAVITT.  Must  get  it?  Well,  I  like  that !  What  did 
you  do  with  the  $5000  I  gave  you  a  month  ago? 

CAINE.  Well,  I  played  the  market  with  it  up  and 
down  with  varying  luck,  but,  fortunately,  I've  got  most  of 
it  left.  But  I  need  $5000  immediately,  and  I'm  a  thou 
sand  short. 

LEAVITT.  Well,  you  may  go  home  again,  my  boy,  for 
you  can't  get  a  cent  from  me.  I  paid  you  your  full  share 
of  that  rake-off. 

CAINE.  My  full  share.  Why,  you  must  have  made 
$50,000  out  of  those  pearls. 

LEAVITT.  (Throws  up  his  hands.)  So  easy!  Why, 
my  boy,  I  didn't  make  more  than  $15,000.  I  had  to 
scatter  those  stones  in  ones  and  twos  from  London  to 
California,  and  I  had  to  take  any  price  I  could  get,  in 
order  to  make  a  quick  sale  and  avoid  suspicion. 

CAINE.  Well,  I'll  show  you  the  way  to  pull  off  some 
thing  better  than  that  soon,  but  I  must  have  a  couple  of 
thousand  dollars  now. 


ioo  THREE    PLAYS 

LEAVITT.  Oh,  a  couple  of  thousand !  I  thought  it  was 
a  thousand  a  few  minutes  ago. 

CAINE.  Well,  it  was,  and  it'll  be  three  thousand  in  ten 
minutes  if  you  don't  give  up  before  then. 

LEAVITT.  (Puts  CAINE  in  chair  and  sits  down  him 
self.)  Here,  have  a  smoke.  Sit  down,  my  boy.  You 
must  have  something  great  if  I  am  to  judge  by  the  way 
you  make  money  so  quick. 

CAINE.  (Takes  cigar  and  lights  it.)  Remember,  Joe, 
three  thousand  at  the  end  of  this  cigar. 

LEAVITT.     My,  my,  go  ahead  and  talk  quickly. 

CAINE.  Well,  I  told  you  I  borrowed  $5000  in  bonds 
from  the  safe,  and  unless  they  are  replaced  in  a  few 
weeks,  Waters  will  miss  them,  as  the  coupons  are  payable 
on  July  first. 

LEAVITT.  Well,  my  boy,  I'm  sory  for  you,  but  that 
isn't  my  funeral.  Why  don't  you  save  your  money? 

CAINE.  (Savagely.)  Cut  the  preaching,  Leavitt,  or 
I'll  hand  you  something  you  don't  want.  I'm  in  no 
temper  to  listen  to  platitudes. 

LEAVITT.  All  right!  Keep  your  face  smooth!  But, 
why  should  I  worry  about  this  ? 

CAINE.  (In  a  whisper.)  Well,  Joe,  I've  got  a  scheme 
that  will  net  us  a  large  sum — perhaps  a  million  or  more. 

LEAVITT.  A  million  or  more !  It  sounds  good !  Like 
a  dream!  Let  me  see  your  arm!  (Looks  at  CAINE'S 
forearm. ) 

CAINE.  (Smiles.)  No  dope,  Uncle  Joe.  I  was  never 
more  awake  in  my  life.  And,  what's  more,  we'll  get  it 
without  risk. 

LEAVITT.     Tell  it  to  me,  quick. 

CAINE.  Waters  is  running  some  big  deals,  and  it  is 
nothing  unusual  for  him  to  carry  large  amounts  in  bonds 
and  negotiable  stocks  in  his  safe. 

LEAVITT.  Yes,  yes,  go  on !  I  can  see  where  we  might 
be  able  to  get  them,  but  I  can't  see  where  we  could  sell 
them  without  risk. 

CAINE.     Waters  is  engineering  a  big  deal  in  .London, 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  101 

and  he  will  probably  close  it  in  a  few  weeks.  He  has 
agreed  to  put  up  a  million  of  United  States  Steel  bonds 
to  guarantee  the  deal. 

LEAVITT.     A  million !     Yes,  yes,  go  on. 

CAINE.  We  must  make  counterfeits,  and  substitute 
them  for  the  genuine  bonds.  The  forgery  won't  be  dis 
covered  till  coupon  day. 

LEAVITT.  By  Judas,  it's  a  great  scheme,  a  great 
scheme,  my  boy !  It  takes  my  breath  away ! 

CAINE.  I  wish  it  would!  The  world  would  be 
sweeter  without  it ! 

LEAVITT.     Don't  be  foolish !     I  couldn't  live  without  it ! 

CAINE.     I  couldn't  live  with  it! 

LEAVITT.  Well,  Smarty,  you  don't  have  to !  But  tell 
me  some  more  about  this  scheme. 

CAINE.  That's  all !  You  make  the  bonds,  and  I'll  do 
the  rest ! 

LEAVITT.  The  bonds  can  be  easily  duplicated  by  me 
here  in  the  shop,  by  working  at  night,  but  who  can  do  the 
signatures  ? 

CAINE.     You  can  do  that  well  enough  yourself? 

LEAVITT.  No,  no,  the  signatures  on  all  the  Steel  issues 
are  too  well  known,  and  the  forgery  might  be  suspected, 
on  the  sale  of  the  first  bond. 

CAINE.  (Rises,  and  speaks  in  whisper.)  What  about 
the  girl,  Miss  Morris? 

LEAVITT.     'Sh! 

[Enter  an  employe  at  Right.  LEAVITT  and  CAINE  stop 
talking.  EMPLOYE  crosses  to  exit.  LEAVITT  rises.] 
She  could  do  it  as  easy  as  eating  a  chocolate,  but  I 
wouldn't  risk  asking  her.  She's  too  proud,  curse  her! 
I  have  tried  to  be  pleasant  in  several  ways  since  she  has 
been  working  for  me,  but  she  is  just  as  stuck-up  as  ever 
she  was  in  the  days  of  prosperity. 

CAINE.  Probably  you  didn't  handle  her  right.  I'll 
sound  her  out  myself. 

LEAVITT.     You  can  have  a  try — and  welcome !     Some- 


102  THREE    PLAYS 

times  I  feel  like  slapping  her  face  when  she  acts  haughtily 
with  me. 

CAINE.  (Sits.)  Well,  Joe,  I  spent  some  time  and 
money  on  her  after  the  crash,  and  I  tried  to  be  amiable, 
but  the  meaning  of  my  intentions  went  over  her  head. 

LEAVITT.     She's  as  proud  as  Lucifer! 

CAINE.  I  thought  when  I  steered  her  into  your  em 
ployment,  you  would  succeed  in  breaking  her  pride 
before  now. 

LEAVITT.  I  have  tried — I  have  tried !  Only  yesterday, 
I  offered  to  take  her  to  the  beach,  and  she  made  me  so 
mad. 

CAINE.     How  did  she  take  it? 

LEAVITT.     Just  as  cool  as  an  icicle. 

CAINE.     What  did  she  say? 

LEAVITT.  She  said  probably  Mrs.  Leavitt  and  the  kids 
would  enjoy  the  outing,  and  needed  it  more  than  she  did. 

CAINE.     (Laughs.)     Well,  that's  funny! 

LEAVITT.  'Tain't  so  funny,  either,  and  I'll  break  her 
spirit  before  I'm  done  with  her. 

CAINE.  Be  careful,  Joe,  or  you  may  drive  her  away 
altogether.  She's  not  your  kind,  man — gad,  I  believe  I'll 
ask  her  to  marry  me. 

LEAVITT.  And  she'll  throw  you  down,  too.  Go  on 
and  ask  her.  I  believe  she's  in  love  with  Waters. 

CAINE.     And  he,  the  fool,  thinks  she's  a  crook. 

LEAVITT.     Ah,  that  was  a  stroke  of  genius,  my  boy. 

CAINE.  It  came  out  luckily  for  us,  because  it  pre 
vented  them  making  a  fuss  about  the  loss  of  the  pearls. 

LEAVITT.  It  came  out  just  right!  We  got  the  money, 
and  we  needed  it  more  than  Rich,  and  we've  got  the  girl 
in  our  hands. 

CAINE.  If  we  can  only  use  her — and  I'm  going  to 
have  a  try,  and  another  try,  and  a  try-again,  Joe.  You 
get  out  and  make  some  excuse  to  send  her  in  here. 

LEAVITT.  All  right,  good  luck!  And  if  you  don't  get 
her,  I'll  have  another  go  myself.  (Exit.) 

CAINE.     Leavitt  is  smart,  but  he  doesn't  know  how  to 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  103 

handle  a  woman  like  Dora  Morris — perhaps  I  don't  either. 
(Enter  DORA.  CAINE  goes  to  meet  her.  They  shake 
hands.)  I'm  glad  to  see  you  again,  Miss  Morris. 

DORA.  (With  a  smile.)  Miss  Moon.  Don't  forget 
my  change  in  name. 

CAINE.     How  do  you  like  your  work? 

DORA.  I  like  it  immensely,  and  I  must  thank  you  again 
for  giving  me  the  opportunity  to  earn  a  living  in  work 
that  is  congenial. 

CAINE.  Ah,  Miss  Morris,  Dora,  I  wish  I  had  the 
power  or  right  to  do  something  for  you — something 
better.  Won't  you  let  me  hope  that  some  time  in  the 
future  I  will  have  the  privilege  and  the  honor? 

DORA.  Please  don't,  Mr.  Caine.  I  am  deeply  grateful 
to  you  for  what  you  have  done,  but  that  is  all  I  can  say. 

CAINE.  But,  hear  me!  Some  day — soon — I  shall  be 
rich.  Won't  you  give  me  some  hope? 

DORA.  Please  don't  say  any  more,  Mr.  Caine.  The 
future  is  a  sealed  book.  I  am  trying  to  learn  contentment 
with  the  present,  and  trying  to  forget  the  past  in  my  work. 

CAINE.  Ah,  your  work!  It  is  drudgery!  You  are 
fitted  for  so  much  better  things.  With  your  beauty  and 
genius,  the  world  owes  you  a  good  living. 

DORA.     The  world  owes  me  nothing. 

CAINE.     But  it  has  treated  you  wretchedly,  wrongfully. 

DORA.  Shamefully !  But  I  must  forget  it  all,  and  try 
to  live  the  new  life  which  Fate  has  given  me. 

CAINE.  And  your  friends — Miss  Lord  for  example? 
The  little  devil !  I  could  have  wrung  her  neck  last  week, 
when  I  heard  her  telling  her  new  friend,  Count  De  Castro, 
about  the  robbery. 

DORA.  (Bitterly.)  One  is  better  off  without  such 
friends.  And  did  Count  De  Castro  believe  all  she  said? 

CAINE.  Evidently  he  did.  He  said  he  had  met  you 
in  Paris,  but  had  never  liked  you. 

DORA.  (Laughing.)  The  little  cad!  He  proposed 
to  me  seven  times  during  our  month's  stay  there. 


104  THREE    PLAYS 

CAINE.  He's  a  first-rate  bounder,  and  I  hope  Miss 
Lord  will  marry  him  and  make  him  miserable  for  life. 

DORA.  Dear  old  Jack  is  far  too  good  for  her — I'm 
sorry  for  him. 

CAINE.  Oh,  he's  all  right !  The  match  was  broken  off 
a  month  ago,  a  few  days  after  his  return. 

DORA.  Dear  boy!  He  was  the  only  unselfish  man 
among  my  acquaintances — always  excepting  yourself,  Mr. 
Caine.  Even  Mr.  Waters  believed  me  guilty  of  stealing 
those  wretched  pearls.  Oh,  I'd  give  my  life — yes,  my 
hopes  of  a  future  life — to  know  who  took  that  trinket, 
and  involved  us  in  such  misery.  (Shudders.)  Oh,  can 
I  ever  blot  those  awful  days  from  my  memory?  The 
shame  and  unhappiness  of  my  father's  suicide,  the  failure 
of  the  bank,  and  then  the  horror  of  being  cut  by  acquain 
tances,  and  those  whom  we  had  counted  as  life-long 
friends. 

CAINE.  Yes,  indeed!  I  tried  to  argue  with  Waters 
to  prove  your  innocence,  but  he  wouldn't  listen  to  reason. 

DORA.  (Bitterly.)  I  will  never  forget  your  kindness 
to  mother  and  me.  Without  your  assistance,  we  should 
have  gone  insane. 

CAINE.  You  can  repay  me  a  hundred-fold  by  striking 
back  at  the  world. 

DORA.  My  world  consisted  of  but'  a  few  people. 
They,  alas,  dishonored  me,  believing  me  guilty  of  a  crime. 
(with  bitterness  and  passion,  clenches  her  hands,  and 
takes  a  few  steps  forward.)  But  I  will  pay  them  back 
some  day !  I  will  make  them  regret  the  torture  they 
heaped  on  my  head,  and  the  shame  they  forced  on  my 
poor  mother  in  the  day  of  her  distress  and  sorrow. 

CAINE.  (Enthusiastically.)  Ah,  that's  the  spirit  to 
show !  With  that  fire  in  your  heart,  I  will  show  you  how 
to  use  your  talents  so  as  to  command  wealth  and  power. 

DORA.  (With  force.)  If  you  could  do  that  for  me, 
I  could  almost  love  you. 

CAINE.  Your  genius  with  the  pen — nobody  in  the 
world  equals  you. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  105 

DORA.  (Languorously.)  Ah,  that  is  nonsense!  My 
genius  with  the  pen  is  worth  $20  a  week,  and  I  suppose 
I  ought  to  be  grateful  for  that  much. 

CAINE.  But  that  is  not  what  I  mean.  One  who  can 
imitate  a  signature  as  well  as  you  can  make  every  banker 
and  broker  in  the  world  tremble  with  fear. 

DORA.  What's  that?  Imitate  a  name?  Forgery,  you 
mean?  (Relaxes.)  Oh  dear.  (Sighs.)  I  thought  you 
were  in  earnest!  Why  do  you  play  a  joke  on  a  poor 
working-girl?  And  yet  you  seemed  in  earnest!  If  any 
one  else  but  the  immaculate  secretary  of  the  unimpeach 
able  Edward  Waters  had  made  such  a  suggestion,  I 
should  have  thought  he  were  serious,  and  trying  to  pave 
the  way  for  me  to  follow  my  father  to  the  grave  of  a 
felon  and  suicide. 

CAINE.  (With  a  sigh  and  forced  laugh.)  But  one 
thinks  of  that  kind  of  thing  occasionally,  Miss  Morris, 
when  cruel  circumstances  crush  our  darling  hopes. 

DORA.  Yes — but  I'm  forgetting  business.  Mr.  Leavitt 
asked  me  to  show  you  this  proof  of  the  new  bond  issue 
in  which  your  employer  is  interested.  (Hands  bond  to 
CAINE.) 

CAINE.  All  right,  leave  it  with  me,  and  I  will  look  it 
over.  How  is  your  Mother? 

DORA.  (With  a  sigh.)  She  is  improving,  thank  you, 
but  sadly  in  need  of  a  change  of  air  and  scene,  but  we 
are  poor  now  and  must  take  life  as  it  comes.  (Exit.) 

CAINE.  By  Jove,  she'll  do  it,  if  she's  pushed  hard 
enough.  She's  got  the  mind  and  pluck  of  a  man,  and  if 
the  world  pushes  her  too  far,  she'll  fight  back.  (Puts 
bond  on  table..  Enter  LEAVITT.) 

LEAVITT.     Well,  my  boy,  what  luck? 

CAINE.  Oh,  I  guess  she'll  come  all  right.  She's  game 
and  spirited,  but  she  won't  be  driven.  I  must  keep  on 
working  on  her  pride,  and,  if  necessary,  we  must  push 
her  a  little  deeper  into  the  mire. 

LEAVITT.     It's  a  puzzle  to  me  why  Providence  should 


io6  THREE    PLAYS 

waste  her  gifts  on  a  woman  who  has  neither  the  desire 
nor  the  pluck  to  use  them. 

CAINE.  Don't  make  any  mistake  about  her  pluck,  or 
you'll  have  a  rude  awakening. 

LEAVITT.  Oh,  Great  Jehovah,  I'd  give  five  years  of  my 
life  to  be  able  to  use  a  pen  as  she  can  for  five  days. 

CAINE.  Things  are  getting  desperate  for  me,  and  I 
must  think  of  a  plan  to  force  her  to  co-operate  with  us. 

LEAVITT.  Can't  we  take  her  off  somewhere  and  starve 
her  into  submission? 

CAINE.  (Laughs.)  You're  crazy,  man.  You're  not  a 
financeer — you're  a  buccaneer.  (WATERS'S  voice  is  heard 
outside.) 

LEAVITT.     There's  Waters — get  out. 

CAINE.     (From  door.)     How  about  that  check? 

LEAVITT.  I'll  mail  you  one  on  chance.  (Goes  to 
CAINE  and  pushes  him  outside  at  Right.  Enter  WATERS.) 
Good  afternoon,  sir,  this  is  an  unexpected  pleasure.  The 
proof  of  your  railway  bond  is  ready,  and  I  was  just  going 
to  send  it  to  your  office. 

WATERS.  I  am  leaving  town  this  evening  for  a  few 
days,  and  I  want  to  see  the  proof  before  I  go,  so,  as  I  was 
passing  near  your  place,  I  thought  I  would  step  in  and 
look  it  over. 

LEAVITT.  I  will  send  for  it.  (Rings  bell.  Enter 
ATTENDANT.)  Tell  the  engraver  to  send  in  the  proof  of 
the  United  Traction  bond. 

[Exit  ATTENDANT.  WATERS  sits  down  near  LEAVITT'S 
desk  with  his  back  to  door.  Pulls  out  slide,  takes 
out  pocket-book,  and  counts  money.] 

WATERS.  When  the  stock  is  finished,  you  can  deliver 
it  at  the  office.  I  will  pay  for  it  now. 

LEAVITT.  (Goes  to  desk,  sits  down  and  writes  receipt.) 
Very  good,  sir.  Thank  you  very  much.  I  will  make 
out  a  receipt.  The  price  is  $600. 

WATERS.     All  right! 

[Counts  out  six  hundred-dollar  bills.     Enter  DORA.! 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  107 

DORA.  I  left  the  proof  here  a  few  moments  ago,  Mr. 
Leavitt. 

[Takes  up  proof.  WATERS,  on  hearing  her  voice, 
jumps  to  his  feet.  She  shows  great  embarrassment, 
but  recovers  first  and  bows.} 

WATERS.     Dora,  what  are  you  doing  here? 

DORA.  I  am  employed  as  an  engraver.  Mr.  Leavitt, 
if  you  have  no  further  need  of  me,  I  will  go  back  to  my 
work. 

WATERS.  Stay!  Leavitt,  please  leave  us  alone  for  a 
few  minutes. 

LEAVITT.  Make  yourself  at  home,  Mr.  Waters. 
(Bows  and  exit.) 

WATERS.  What  does  this  mean  ?  How  long  have  you 
been  here? 

DORA.  You  will  pardon  me,  Mr.  Waters,  but  I  really 
cannot  see  how  my  life  or  occupation  can  interest  you. 

WATERS.  But  that  is  nonsense!  I  am  one  of  your 
oldest  friends.  Why  did  you  come  here  ? 

DORA.  To  earn  bread  and  a  roof  for  my  mother  and 
myself. 

WATERS.  But  why  did  you  leave  your  old  home  so 
suddenly  ? 

DORA.  Our  old  home  was  no  longer  ours.  My  father 
died  a  bankrupt,  and  our  friends  had  little  sympathy  for 
one  whom  they  believed  to  be  a  thief  and  the  daughter  of 
a  thief. 

WATERS.  (With  a  gesture  of  impatience.)  But,  even 
so,  you  know  that  I  would  help  you  and  your  mother  for 
old  times'  sake. 

DORA.  (Bitterly.)  Hear  him,  ye  gods!  Even  now, 
he  believes  me  guilty  of  stealing  that  wretched  necklace. 

WATERS.  (Impatiently.)  Oh,  damn  the  necklace! 
Why  can't  you  forget  it  and  talk  sense? 

DORA.  Forget  it!  Oh,  can  I  ever  hope  to  forget  it? 
It  has  seared  my  very  soul ! 

WATERS.     Believe  me,  I,  too,  have  suffered  deeply. 

DORA.     How  can  you  compare  your  sufferings  with 


io8  THREE    PLAYS 

mine?  The  horrible  death  and  disgrace  of  a  loving 
Father,  and  the  torture  of  being  ostracised  by  every 
friend,  when  sympathy  only  was  due  and  expected. 

WATERS.  I  am  deeply  sorry,  and  would  give  anything 
to  undo  the  wrong.  Jack  and  I  did  everything  we  could 
to  hush  the  matter  up,  but  Helen—  (DoRA  clenches  her 
hands.)  Now,  Dora,  won't  you  let  me  see  you  and  Mrs. 
Morris  and  do  something  for  you.  This  is  no  life  for  you. 

DORA.  Answer  me  one  question  truthfully.  Do  you 
believe  I  took  the  necklace  ? 

WATERS.  Of  course  you  know  I  want  to  believe  you 
innocent. 

DORA.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Waters.  (Bows  and  goes  ^  to 
door.  He  tries  to  stop  her,  but  she  brushes  past  him. 
Stands  at  door.)  Oh,  I  hate  you  —  I  hate  you  all. 


WATERS.  Hang  it  all,  I  wish  Jack  and  his  necklace 
had  gone  to  Arabia,  before  they  bothered  me  that  night. 
(Enter  LEAVITT  with  proof.)  Here  is  the  proof,  Mr. 
Waters. 

WATERS.  (Impatiently.)  Oh,  take  it  to  the  devil  — 
send  it  to  Mr.  Caine.  (Exit.) 

LEAVITT.  (Rubs  his  hands.)  He  doesn't  appear  to 
have  got  much  comfort  from  my  lady  Dainty.  (Rings 
bell.  Enter  ATTENDANT.)  Send  Miss  Moon. 

[Exit  ATTENDANT.     LEAVITT  poses  before  glass.} 
By  Judas,  I  do  believe  the  old  man  has  a  chance  yet. 
(Enter  DORA.)     Miss  Moon,  will  you  take  those  bills  to 
the  bank  when  you  go  to  lunch.     (Hands  her  bills  which 
WATERS  gave  him.)     Make  out  a  deposit  slip  at  the  bank. 

DORA.  Yes,  Mr.  Leavitt;  and  I'd  be  greatly  obliged 
if  you'd  let  me  have  half  a  day  off,  I'm  not  feeling  very 
well. 

[She  takes  bills  and  puts  them  in  her  purse,  which  she 
t  replaces  in  her  pocket.} 

LEAVITT.  Certainly,  my  dear!  And  now,  what  do 
you  say  to  us  having  a  half  -holiday  together?  Let  us 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  109 

take  one  of  those  hundred-dollar  bills  and  smash  it  all  to 
pieces  having  a  good  time. 

DORA.     I  don't  understand  you,  Mr.  Leavitt. 
LEAVITT.     (Jumps  up,  and,  taking  her  forcibly  round 
the  waist,  kisses  her.}      Do  you  understand  me  now? 
[She  struggles  with  him,  and  breaks  away.     He  rushes 

to  door  and  locks  it.] 

DORA.  Oh,  you  wicked  man !  Open  the  door  instantly, 
or  I  shall  scream. 

LEAVITT.  No,  you  won't  scream,  my  dear.  You'll 
just  take  things  as  they  come  and  be  sensible.  (DoRA 
goes  to  door  and  tries  to  force  it  open.)  The  door  is 
sound-proof.  Don't  be  silly,  now,  dearie. 

DORA.  Oh,  what  have  I  done  to  encourage  such  treat 
ment  as  this  ?  Open  the  door  instantly,  or  I  will  scream, 
and  call  the  police. 

LEAVITT.     Don't  be  foolish — I'm  your  friend. 
[He  grasps  her  hand,  takes  her  round  the  waist  and 
kisses  her  once  more.     She  strikes  him  in  the  face 
and  breaks  his  hold,  rushes  to  window,  breaks  it,  and 
calls  out.] 

DORA.     Help!  Help!  Police! 

[LEAVITT  tidies  his  dress  and  hair,  unlocks  door  and 
sits   at   desk.      Door   opens   to   admit   POLICEMAN, 
WATERS,  and  CAINE.  ] 
POLICEMAN.     What  does  this  mean? 
DORA.     That  beast  locked  me  in  here  and  attempted  to 
ill-treat  me. 

WATERS.     Arrest  him  at  once,  officer — it's  an  outrage. 
[Officer  walks  to  LEAVITT  who  holds  his  hand  up  with 

a  smile.  ] 

LEAVITT.  Wait  a  minute,  Mr.  Officer.  She  is  the  one 
to  be  arrested. 

POLICEMAN.     What  do  you  mean? 
LEAVITT.     For  some  time,  I  have  been  missing  sums 
of  money  from  my  desk,  and  a  few  minutes  ago,  I  caught 
the  girl  stealing  six  hundred  dollars. 


no  THREE    PLAYS 

DORA.  It's  a  lie!  He  insulted  me  and  treated  me 
brutally.  Arrest  him  and  take  him  to  prison. 

LEAVITT.     Search  her !     Ask  her  to  produce  her  purse. 

DORA.  (Takes  purse  from  pocket,  and  throws  it  to 
POLICEMAN.)  There  is  my  purse — you  will  find  nothing 
in  it  but  a  little  change. 

[Turns  away.     POLICEMAN  opens  purse,  and  takes  out 
bills.] 

LEAVITT.  Do  you  recognize  those  bills,  Mr.  Waters? 
The  same  six  hundred  you  gave  me  less  than  an  hour  ago. 

WATERS.  Yes,  I  paid  you  six  hundred  dollars — but 
your  charge  is  incomprehensible.  I  can't  believe  it. 

DORA.  It's  a  wicked  lie!  He  gave  me  the  money  to 
deposit  in  the  bank  for  him,  and  then  he  insulted  me. 

LEAVITT.  Officer,  I  charge  that  young  woman  with 
larceny  and  blackmail.  When  I  caught  her  stealing  the 
bills,  I  locked  the  door  so  as  to  telephone  for  an  officer 
to  arrest  her.  Then  she  threatened  to  blackmail  me, 
and  called  out  of  the  window  to  make  good  her  bluff. 

WATERS.  I  don't  believe  it!  Her  word  is  a  thousand 
times  better  than  yours. 

LEAVITT.  Very  fine  talk,  Mr.  Waters.  But  can  you 
deny  that  the  young  woman  left  your  house  a  few  weeks 
ago  under  suspicion  of  stealing  a  diamond  necklace — or 
something  of  the  kind? 

CAINE.  Oh,  I  say,  Leavitt,  withdraw  the  charge,  and 
let  the  officer  go. 

LEAVITT.     No,  sir !     Officer,  do  your  duty. 

WATERS.     I  protest ! 

POLICEMAN.  Is  what  Mr.  Leavitt  says  about  the 
diamond  necklace  true,  sir? 

WATERS.     That's  none  of  your  business! 

POLICEMAN.  Well,  I  draws  my  own  conclusions. 
You,  Miss,  put  on  your  hat  and  come  with  me. 

[DORA  goes  to  closet,  takes  hat  in  hand,  and  slowly 
goes  out  as  the  curtain  falls.] 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  m 


SCENE  II. 

[Waiting  room  of  Municipal  Court,  Criminal  Session. 
Next  day.  There  is  a  door  in  centre  leading  to  Court 
room,  and  another  on  left  leading  to  corridor. 
When  centre  door  is  open,  arguments,  etc.  are  heard. 
Enter  CAINE  and  WATERS.] 

WATERS.     She  is  not  here  yet. 

CAINE.  Her  case  is  last  on  the  list,  and  on  account  of 
her  mother's  illness,  she  will  stay  at  home  until  the  last 
moment. 

WATERS.  This  is  a  dreadful  business !  How  does  she 
take  it? 

CAINE.  As  coolly  as  an  old-timer,  sir— she  has  plenty 
of  nerve.  Are  you  going  to  remain,  sir?  You'll  have 
to  keep  out  of  the  way  if  you  wish  to  avoid  testifying 
against  her.  An  officer  called  four  times  at  the  house  to 
serve  a  subpoena  on  you. 

WATERS.  That  will  never  do!  I'll  get  away  from 
here.  Have  you  retained  Brimful  as  I  told  you? 

CAINE.  Yes,  sir,  I  had  some  difficulty  in  getting  him 
to  come  to  this  court,  but  I  succeeded. 

WATERS.  Good !  He'll  do  all  that's  possible  for  her. 
Oh,  God!  if  I  could  only  believe  her  innocent. 

CAINE.  It's  pretty  hard  to  believe  with  the  facts  so 
strong  against  her.  Here  she  comes,  sir. 

WATERS.     I'll  be  in  the  library,  if  you  need  me. 
[Exits.     Enter  DORA.] 

CAINE.  Ah!  you  are  on  time.  (Jokingly.}  I  was 
hoping  that  you  might  still  be  induced  to  jump  your  bail. 

DORA.  No,  not  that!  I  have  not  reached  that  stage 
yet!  I  have  cost  my  friends  some  pangs  of  shame  and 
regret,  but  I  am  not  going  to  cost  you,  my  good  friend, 
a  thousand  dollars  for  your  kindness  in  helping  me. 


H2  THREE    PLAYS 

CAINE.  (Sentimentally.)  I'm  a  poor  man,  Miss  Dora, 
but  if  it  had  cost  me  all  I  possess  I  would  have  paid  it 
rather  than  that  you  should  spend  even  a  single  night  in 
a  prison  cell. 

DORA.     Thank  you ;  I  shall  never  forget  your  kindness. 

CAINE.  But  won't  you  let  me  plead  again  with  you 
to  go  away  and  avoid  this  dreadful  ordeal.  Just  think 
of  the  shame  and  disgrace  of  standing  even  for  a  moment 
among  those  poor  wretches  in  there — the  prisoner's  dock. 

DORA.  Think  of  it!  Oh!  how  can  I  ever  forget  it! 
(Breaks  down.)  Oh !  what  shall  I  do ?  (Sits  on  bench.) 
Oh,  mother  dear,  this  will  surely  kill  you. 

CAINE.  (Goes  over  to  DORA.)  Come  away  and  leave 
it  all.  There  is  yet  time.  In  some  distant  city,  you 
can  be  happy — we  can  be  happy. 

DORA.  (With  dignity.)  You  are  very  kind,  Mr. 
Caine,  and  mean,  well,  but  I  am  innocent  of  wrong ;  and 
in  the  city  of  my  birth,  I  can  surely  get  justice.  I  am 
strong  again,  and  will  face  my  accusers.  Has  Mr. 
Waters  been  here?  (Wistfully.) 

CAINE.     No,  I  have  not  seen  him  today. 

DORA.  (With  a  slight  gesture  of  disappointment.) 
Trouble  and  misfortune  act  on  one's  friends  like  an  April 
sun  on  thin  ice. 

CAINE.  I  have  succeeded  in  putting  your  case  on  the 
end  of  the  list,  and  as  no  one  knows  you  under  the  name 
of  Moon,  the  case  has  attracted  no  attention,  and  there 
will  be  few  spectators. 

DORA.  Ah  !  you  are  my  best  friend — kind  and  thought 
ful,  and  so  different  from  Mr. — all  the  the  others. 

CAINE.  Keep  your  veil  down,  and  sit  in  the  room 
across  the  corridor  until  the  case  is  called. 

DORA.  Thank  you,  again,  my  friend.  (Shakes  his 
hand.)  That  is  what  I  dreaded  most — the  awful  publici 
ty.  (Exit.  Enter  LEAVITT  from  Court.) 

LEAVITT.  I  have  been  peeping  through  the  window, 
watching  for  her  to  go  out.  How  does  she  take  it? 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  113 

CAINE.  You're  a  damned  old  scoundrel,  Leavitt,  and 
I  should  like  to  punch  your  head. 

LEAVITT.  Hoity-toity!  You'd  better  try  and  punch 
my  head.  What  are  you  fussing  about? 

CAINE.  You've  gone  too  far  in  this  business,  and  I 
want  to  give  you  warning  now,  to  keep  your  eye  off  the 
girl,  except  for  business. 

LEAVITT.  What  have  you  got  to  say  about  it?  Is  she 
your  property? 

CAINE.  I  hope  she  will  be  some  day,  and  if  you  don't 
keep  your  eyes  away  from  her.  (Draws  a  large  knife, 
and  plays  with  it.)  I'll  carve  you  into  sausage  meat — 
damn  you. 

LEAVITT.  You  keep  your  temper!  You  can  have  the 
girl — if  you  want  her,  when  she  comes  out  of  prison. 

CAINE.     She'll  never  go  to  prison! 

LEAVITT.  (With  signs  of  alarm.)  Not  go  to  prison? 
Are  you  going  back  on  me  ? 

CAINE.  No !  You  can  go  ahead  on  this  deal  to  the 
limit,  because  she's  not  ready  to  give  in  yet.  She's  still 
got  pride  and  honesty — but  after  an  hour  in  there  and 
twelve  months'  imprisonment  hanging  over  her,  I'm 
mightily  mistaken  if  she  doesn't  fall  into  my  way  of 
thinking. 

LEAVITT.  Why  didn't  you  let  her  stay  in  the  cell  all 
night?  That  would  have  broken  her  proud  spirit! 

CAINE.  I  would  have  left  her  there  all  right,  but 
Waters  hustled  me  off  at  once  to  find  a  bail  commissioner, 
with  imperative  instructions  to  get  her  out. 

LEAVITT.     Hang  him!  we'll  make  him  pay  yet! 

CAINE.  Well,  I  turned  it  all  to  my  advantage,  as  he 
ordered  me  on  no  account  to  let  her  know  who  was 
putting  up  the  stuff. 

LEAVITT.     Good  boy ! 

CAINE.  •  And  he  told  me  to  try  and  persuade  her  to 
jump  her  bail !  Look  at  the  roll  she  was  to  get  to  pay 
her  way.  (Shows  bills.) 


n4  THREE    PLAYS 

LEAVITT.  Ow  wow !  That's  a  tidy  bunch  of  money ! 
Let  me  warm  my  hands  on  it. 

CAINE.  Five  thousand.  And  when  I  tried  to  get  her 
to  accept  this  and  skip,  she  actually  believed  that  I  was 
the  philanthropist. 

[LEAVITT  yells  with  laughter,  and  a  court  officer  opens 
centre  door.] 

OFFICER.  (Gruffly.)  Keep  quiet,  or  get  out.  (Shuts 
door.) 

LEAVITT.  Beg  pardon,  Mr.  Officer,  I  forgot  where  I 
was. 

CAINE.  (To  LEAVITT.)  Repress  your  feelings,  old 
man,  or  you'll  be  in  the  dock  for  contempt.  (Walks  up 
and  looks  into  court  room  through  door.)  The  dock  is 
cleared.  We  must  be  next.  Take  a  brace,  Leavitt,  and 
put  on  your  Sunday  school  face. 

LEAVITT.  Don't  worry  about  me,  old  boy;  I'll  make 
the  judge  believe  me  against  a  dozen  witnesses. 

OFFICER.  (From  centre  door.)  Dora  Moon — Dora 
Moon  and  all  witnesses.  (Shuts  door.) 

CAINE.  You  remain  here,  Leavitt,  and  I  will  bring 
her  through  the  other  door  into  the  Court.  (Exit.) 

LEAVITT.  Ah !  Mr.  Caine,  you're  pretty  easy  with  your 
knife,  but  perhaps  I'll  make  you  pay  some  day,  Mr. 
Smarty.  Ah!  but  isn't  she  a  beauty?  Well,  after  all, 
if  he  can  get  her  to  sign  those  bonds,  I'll  be  satisfied  with 
the  money,  and  he  can  have  the  girl.  Oh !  Oh ! !  Oh ! ! ! 
to  make  a  million  dollars  and  all  so  easy.  (Enter  CAINE.) 

CAINE.     Now,  Leavitt,  get  inside.     The  case  is  on. 

[LEAVITT  exit.  WATERS  enters.  CAINE  opens  centre 
door  for  WATERS  to  pass  in.  ] 

WATERS.  No,  Caine,  I  can't  go  in  there — they'll  make 
me  testify  against  her.  You  stand  at  the  door  and  tell 
me  how  it's  going.  (CAINE  opens  door  partly.) 

A  LOUD  VOICE.     (From  Court.)     I  object! 

SECOND  LOUD  VOICE.  I  will  hear  what  the  officer  has 
to  say  on  that  point. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  115 

FIRST  VOICE.  But,  your  honor,  I  protest!  What  Mr. 
Waters  said  is  not  competent! 

SECOND  VOICE.  If  he  charged  her  with  a  former  theft 
in  her  presence,  I  will  admit  it. 

FIRST  VOICE.  (Angrily.)  But  why  doesn't  the  gov 
ernment  bring  Mr.  Waters  here  as  a  witness,  if  he  knows 
anything  that  is  competent? 

THIRD  VOICE.  May  it  please  your  honor,  we  have 
searched  for  Mr.  Waters  all  the  morning,  but  we  could 
not  find  him.  He  has  not  been  at  his  house  nor  at  his 
office. 

SECOND  VOICE.     I  will  admit  the  evidence. 

THIRD  VOICE.  Mr.  Waters  accused  her  with  stealing 
a  diamond  ring  from  his  house  where  she  was  formerly  a 
servant. 

SECOND  VOICE.     And  what  did  she  say? 

THIRD  VOICE.    She  didn't  deny  it !    I  then  arrested  her ! 
[CAINE  shuts  the  door.} 

WATERS.     Prejudiced  old  fool! 

CAINE.  Mr.  Brimful  is  putting  up  a  good  fight,  sir, 
but  the  judge  is  prejudiced  against  Miss  Morris. 

WATERS.     It's  outrageous ! 

CAINE.     The  officer  is  rubbing  it  in  pretty  thick. 

WATERS.  That's  how  it  is  usually  done  in  this  court, 
but,  fortunately,  if  there's  miscarriage  of  justice,  an 
appeal  to  the  Superior  Court  can  be  had  without  for 
mality,  and  there  a  man  is  judged  by  twelve  of  his  fellow 
citizens. 

CAINE.     But  even  there,  Justice  is  sometimes  blind. 

WATERS.  (Bitterly.)  Yes,  and  sometimes  goes  on 
crutches.  Of  course,  Brimful  will  appeal  in  case  of  a 
verdict  against  us. 

CAINE.     Surely,  sir. 

WATERS.  This  atmosphere  is  choking  me.  I  will  go 
back  to  the  library. 

[Exits.     CAINE  opens  centre  door  again.} 

CAINE.     Ah !  the  cop  is  finished !     He  looks  flushed,  as 


n6  THREE    PLAYS 

if  Brimful  had  given  his  a  mauvais  quart  d'heure.  Now 
for  Leavitt. 

VOICE.     Your  name! 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.     Joseph  Leavitt. 

VOICE.     And  your  business ! 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  President  of  the  Universal  Engrav 
ing  Company  and  director  of  the  Tremont  Trust  Com 
pany. 

VOICE.     Do  you  know  the  prisoner,  Dora  Moon? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  I  know  her  slightly.  She  has  been 
in  my  employ  some  two  months. 

VOICE.     Did  you  know  her  before  that  time? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  Not  personally.  I  took  her  into  my 
employ  out  of  charity  on  the  recommendation  of  a  cus 
tomer,  who  said  he'd  vouch  for  her  character. 

VOICE.     When  did  you  see  her  last? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.     Yesterday  afternoon  in  my  office. 

VOICE.     Tell  what  happened. 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  I  returned  from  lunch  about  one- 
thirty,  and  as  I  entered  my  private  office,  I  saw  the 
prisoner  leaning  over  my  desk.  I  walked  softly  behind 
her,  and  saw  her  place  some  six  hundred  dollars  in  bills 
in  her  purse  which  I  had  left  on  my  desk.  I  charged 
her  with  the  theft  and  said  I  would  have  her  arrested. 

VOICE.     What  did  she  say  or  do? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  She  put  her  arms  round  my  neck, 
and  attempted  to  kiss  me. 

DORA'S  VOICE.  Oh!  you  monster!  How  can  you  lie 
like  that? 

VOICE.     Keep  quiet,  Miss. 

DORA'S  VOICE.     Oh!  this  is  too  horrible! 

VOICE.  Keep  quiet,  now;  you  can  testify  later.  Go 
on,  Mr.  Leavitt. 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  I  am  a  respectable  married  man, 
and  I  was  naturally  horrified.  I  released  myself  from  her 
embrace,  and  demanded  the  return  of  my  money. 

VOICE.     What  did  she  say  then? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.     She  chucked  me  under  the  chin,  and 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  117 

called  me  her  darling  old  boy,  and  said  she  needed  the 
money  worse  than  I  did. 

VOICE.     Well? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  I  went  to  the  telephone  to  call  the 
police,  and  she  said,  "If  you  don't  quit,  I'll  ruin  your 
character.  I'll  swear  you  assaulted  me."  Then  as  she 
was  trying  to  leave  the  room,  I  locked  the  door. 

VOICE.     What  did  she  do? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  She  said,  'Til  show  you  a  thing  or 
two  you  never  learnt  before!"  She  then  broke  the  win 
dow  and  called  for  help.  The  rest  happened  just  as  the 
officer  told  you.  She  at  first  charged  me  with  assault, 
and  denied  she  had  the  money,  but  the  officer  found  it 
in  her  purse. 

VOICE.     You  can  cross  examine,  Mr.  Brimful. 

SECOND  VOICE.     What's  your  nationality? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.     American,  sir. 

BRIMFUL'S  VOICE.     What  kind  of  American? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  I'm  of  pure  Puritan  blood.  My 
ancestors  came  over  on  the  Mayflower. 

BRIMFUL'S  VOICE.  (Laugh,)  You  mean  the  ark, 
don't  you.  Where  did  you  come  from? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.     Germany. 

BRIMFUL'S  VOICE.  (Laugh.)  I  didn't  know  Jerusa 
lem  was  in  Germany. 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  I  must  ask  the  honorable  Court  for 
protection. 

SECOND  VOICE.  Please  keep  to  the  merits  of  the  case, 
Mr.  Brimful. 

BRIMFUL'S  VOICE.  You're  Superintendent  of  a  Sun 
day  school,  I  believe? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  Yes,  sir,  I  am  a  faithful  servant  of 
the  Lord. 

BRIMFUL'S  VOICE.  Will  you  explain  how  Miss  Moore's 
dress  got  torn? 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.     I  don't  know. 

BBIMFUL'S  VOICE.  You  heard  the  officer  say  her  waist 
was  torn.  Don't  you  know  it  was  torn? 


n8  THREE    PLAYS 

LEAVITT'S  VOICE.  It  must  have  got  torn  when  I  tried 
to  break  away  from  her  embrace. 

DORA'S  VOICE.  Is  there  no  God  in  Heaven  to  strike 
him  dead? 

VOICE.  If  you  don't  keep  silent,  I  will  commit  you 
for  contempt. 

[Enter  WATERS.     CAINE  shuts  door.] 

WATERS.     How  is  it  going,  Caine? 

CAINE.     Badly,  I'm  afraid,  sir.     (Enter  OFFICER.) 

OFFICER.  Oh  !  Mr.  Waters,  I'm  glad  to  find  you.  I've 
been  looking  for  you  all  the  morning. 

WATERS.     I'll  see  you  in  my  office.     (Starts  to  exit.) 

OFFICER.  (Puts  his  hand  on  his  arm.)  You're  wanted 
now,  sir,  here  in  this  court  as  a  witness. 

WATERS.  Hang  the  luck!  I'd  rather  lose  my  hand. 
Where's  your  summons? 

OFFICER.  (Feels  in  his  pocket.)  I  believe  I've  left 
it  with  the  clerk.  Wait  a  minute  and  I'll  get  it,  sir. 
(Exit  into  court  room.) 

WATERS.  Does  the  idiot  think  I'm  going  to  wait  for 
him  when  I  don't  have  to?  (Exit.) 

CAINE.  (Laughing.)  My  respected  master  isn't 
happy  today.  (Looks  through  door.)  Hello,  Leavitt  is 
finished.  (Enter  OFFICER.) 

OFFICER.     Where's  Mr.  Waters  gone? 

CAINE.     He's   waiting   for  you   in   the   clerk's   office. 
[Exit  OFFICER.     CAINE  opens  door  of  Court.] 

BRIMFUL'S  VOICE.  I  have  no  witnesses,  your  honor, 
and  I  move  the  case  be  dismissed. 

SECOND  VOICE.  I  find  the  prisoner  guilty.  Prisoner, 
have  you  anything  to  say  before  I  pass  sentence  upon 
you? 

DORA'S  VOICE.  The  testimony  of  the  witnesses  is  a 
tissue  of  falsehoods.  I  am  innocent. 

SECOND  VOICE.  You  are  sentenced  to  be  imprisoned 
for  nine  months  with  hard  labor. 

DORA'S  VOICE.  Am  I  dreaming?  Call  this  a  court  of 
justice,  where  an  innocent  and  defenceless  woman  can 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  119 

be  dragged  and  made  a  felon  on  the  testimony  of  such 
men  as  these?  Ah!  may  God  save  the  Commonwealth 
of  Massachusetts  and  help  me!  (Noise.) 

VOICES.     Order!     Order  in  the  court! 

FIRST  VOICE.     I  appeal ! 

SECOND  VOICE.  The  appeal  is  allowed,  with  bail  to 
remain  at  one  thousand  dollars. 

[CAINE  shuts  the  door  and  shakes  hands  with  himself. 
Exit  into  court  room,  returning  in  a  moment  with 
DORA  on  his  arm.] 

CAINE.  Bear  up,  Dora,  don't  give  way  now,  when  you 
need  all  your  courage  and  strength  of  mind. 

DORA.  Oh !  think  of  the  shame !  How  can  I  stand 
up  against  it?  Oh,  mother  dear,  this  will  surely  kill  you. 

CAINE.  It  is  nothing  serious  yet.  The  verdict  of  this 
court  doesn't  count  for  anything. 

DORA.  (In  despair.}  Oh!  I  am  a  felon  under  sen 
tence  !  Oh !  I  wish  I  were  dead ! 

CAINE.  You  must  live  and  fight  back!  Let  me  be 
your  guide  and  councellor;  and  when  we  are  rich  and 
powerful,  we  will  force  them  to  their  knees. 

DORA.  Riches  and  power!  Ah!  I  once  dreamt  of 
those!  But  now  I  am  a  beggar  and  a  felon,  and  what 
have  I  done  that  I  should  be  tortured  thus?  And  what 
will  my  poor  mother  do  without  the  little  care  and  atten 
tion  I  have  been  able  to  give  her. 

CAINE.  They  will  take  her  to  the  poor-house,  and 
make  her  suffer  for  your  supposed  crime. 

DORA.  (Stands  up  and  speaks  angrily.)  They  shan't 
do  it !  I  will  kill  her  and  myself  this  very  night  and  end 
this  misery. 

CAINE.  That  would  be  cowardly,  and  you  are  not  a 
coward.  Be  reasonable,  Dora, — you  are  young,  beautiful, 
and  talented.  The  world  owes  you  a  living— a  good  liv 
ing,  and  your  innocent  mother  has  done  nothing  that 
she  should  suffer.  Fight  back!  Give  blow  for  blow, 
and  make  the  vampires  give  up  some  of  the  illgotten 


120  THREE    PLAYS 

wealth  which  they  have  sucked  from  the  veins  of  the 
poor  and  oppressed. 

DORA.     Ah!  if  I  could  do  it! 

CAINE.     You  can  do  it !     I  can  show  you ! 

DORA.  Show  me  the  way!  I  will  do  anything  for 
revenge!  I  feel  today  as  if  I  could  rob  or  even  kill  to 
be  revenged  on  the  world. 

CURTAIN 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  121 

ACT  III. 
.  [Same  as  Act  II.     Two  weeks  later.     Enter  CAINE.] 

CAINE.  (Looking  round.)  Hello,  I  suppose  she's 
gone  to  supper  and  left  the  light.  How  careless ! 
(Looks  round  and  sees  safe  and  desk  open.  Shuts  safe 
and  then  goes  to  desk.)  Well,  I'm  condemned!  Just 
like  a  woman!  (Picks  up  an  open  bond  from  pile  on 
desk. )  Great  Caesar !  who  wants  to  risk  his  neck  doing 
business  of  this  kind  with  a  woman !  I'll  bet  my  hat  she 
wouldn't  leave  a  love-letter  lying  around  like  this! 

[Enter  LEAVITT,  cautiously  peeping  through  the  door 
before  coming  in.} 

LEAVITT.     Is  she  here? 

CAINE.     Is  who  here? 

LEAVITT.     Dora,  of  course,  old  Crusty? 

CAINE.  No,  she's  gone  to  dinner,  I  suppose.  But 
what  do  you  think  of  this?  The  whole  place  opened  up — 
desk,  safe  and  -all — and  all  these  bonds  lying  about. 
Don't  you  think  I've  got  reason  to  be  crusty? 

LEAVITT.  (Startled,  takes  a  few  steps  towards  door, 
then  comes  back.)  Holy  Solomon !  you  don't  mean  to  say 
that  she  left  those  life  preservers  lying  about  here? 

CAINE.     That's  just  what  she  did! 

LEAVITT.     You've  taken  my  breath  away! 

CAINE.     I  don't  blame  you — it's  a  great  risk ! 

LEAVITT.  By  Judas!  I  will  beat  her!  My  dear 
Caine,  have  you  ever  stopped  to  think,  that  if  some  crank 
of  a  judge,  with  a  sour  stomach,  were  to  sentence  us  to 
one  year  for  each  of  those  bonds,  it  would  cost  us  a 
thousand  years — half  of  eternity!  Just  think  of  being 
in  a  cold  cell  all  that  time ! 

CAINE.  Well,  it  might  be  worse !  It  probably  will  be 
worse  for  you ! 


122  THREE    PLAYS 

LEAVITT.  Quit  your  joking!  This  is  no  child's  play1 
She  must  be  made  to  take  care ! 

CAINE.     How  are  you  going  to  do  it? 

LEAVITT.  Beat  her!  Kick  her!  Do  something  tc 
make  her  careful! 

CAINE.  The  shock's  been  too  much  for  you,  Joe — take 
a  drink.  (Crosses  to  desk  and  gives  LEAVITT  bottle  from 
desk.  LEAVITT  drinks,  and  sinks  in  a  chair.)  You'd 
better  keep  your  eyes  and  ears  open,  and  make  a  jump 
for  the  other  entrance  when  you  hear  her  footsteps,  be 
cause  if  she  sees  you  here,  the  jig's  up. 

LEAVITT.  Let  her  see  me  here!  She's  got  to  see  me 
some  time  or  other!  I  ain't  going  to  put  up  with  any 
more  nonsense  from  her.  She's  got  to  see  me  now,  right 
here! 

CAINE.  No,  she  hasn't!  No  reason  why  she  should 
ever  see  you  again.  I  tell  you,  man,  if  she  knew  you  had 
anything  to  do  with  this,  she'd  cut  her  hand  off,  before 
she'd  write  another  signature. 

LEAVITT.  You  may  think  so,  but  I  don't  believe  it! 
She's  out  for  the  stuff  the  same  as  we  are — and  I'm 
getting  tired  of  her  airs  and  graces. 

CAINE.  (Grasping  him  by  the  collar,  and  looking  him 
in  the  face.)  You've  been  drinking  too  much! 

LEAVITT.  And  what  if  I  have!  It's  none  of  your 
darned  business!  (Shakes  CAINE  off.) 

CAINE.  Joe,  if  I  thought  you  meant  it,  I'd  cut  your 
heart  out. 

LEAVITT.     You  would,  eh? 

CAINE.  Yes,  I  would!  You  know  the  risk  we're 
taking!  My  liberty,  as  well  as  yours,  is  at  stake;  and  if 
anything  happens  through  your  blundering,  I'll  kill  you. 
I'd  rather  go  to  the  chair,  than  to  the  prison  for  life. 

LEAVITT.  (Seriously.)  Oh!  I'll  be  all  right!  I've 
been  worried  and  frightened,  and  I  took  a  drink  or  two. 

CAINE.  Go  outside,  and  do  something  to  clear  your 
head.  Go  on,  quick! 

[LEAVITT  slinks  out  of  door.] 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  123 

Oh !  that  dog !  I  hope  I'll  never  see  his  face  again  after 
this  week's  over.  To  be  so  near  the  goal  of  my  hopes, 
and  to  be  put  in  danger  by  such  a  thing  as  him!  (Goes 
to  desk  and  counts  bonds.)  One,  two,  three,  the  rest  are 
finished,  I  suppose.  Well  done,  Dora,  you're  a  brick. 
Where  are  the  rest?  (Pulls  out  two  or  three  drawers  of 
desk,  then  goes  to  safe  and  opens  it.)  Ah !  here  they  are 
—all  neatly  folded  and  packed !  Five,  ten,  fifteen,  twenty, 
thirty,  forty,  fifty,  sixty,  seventy,  eighty,  ninety,  one  hun 
dred.  One  thousand  first  bonds  of  the  Steel  Trust— 
every  one  as  easy  to  sell  as  a  silver  dollar. 

[Enter  LEAVITT,  with  a  pained  expression  on  his  face.] 
Come,  I'll  give  you  the  water-cure. 

[Takes  LEAVITT  by  the  collar,  and  drags  him  up  to 
washstand.  LEAVITT  yells,  and  taking  towel  from 
closet,  dries  his  hands  and  face.] 

CAINE.  Keep  quiet,  you  fool— she  may  return  at  any 
moment ! 

[Shuts  centre  door  and  locks  it.] 

LEAVITT.  Ah !  I  feel  better  now  !  Thanks,  old  man, 
you  meant  well ! 

[CAINE  fills  glass  half  full  of  water  and  takes  spoonful 
of  seher  from,  bottle,  puts  it  in  water,  and  hands 
glass  to  LEAVITT,  who  drinks  contents.  CAINE 
'crosses  to  desk,  takes  up  bond  on  which  DORA  was 
working,  and  hands  it  to  LEAVITT.] 

LEAVITT.  Ah !  smooth  as  satin !  Not  a  tremor !  She 
must  have  nerves  of  steel ! 

CAINE.  (Hands  him  another  bond.)  There  is  the 
original. 

LEAVITT.  (Admiringly.)  Ah!  a  perfect  facsimile. 
Charles  W.  Schwab,  President.  She's  an  artist!  This 
would  surprise  Charlie ! 

CAINE.  Yes,  sir,  even  Carnegie  would  accept  that 
bond  as  the  genuine  article. 

LEAVITT.    They  wouldn't  build  many  libraries  on  these ! 

CAINE.  Not  after  July  first,  when  the  coupons  come 
due. 


124  THREE    PLAYS 

LEAVITT.  She's  an  artist!  When  does  the  deal  come 
off? 

CAINE.  Tonight!  (Takes  bond  from  LEAVITT  and 
puts  it  on  the  desk.}  It's  a  certainty! 

LEAVITT.     Has  she  finished  the  work? 

CAINE.  All  but  three!  There  are  nine  neat  little 
packages  of  a  hundred  each  arranged  in  the  safe,  and 
every  package  is  good  for  more  than  a  hundred  thousand. 

LEAVITT.  But  are  you  sure  the  originals  are  in 
Waters's  safe? 

CAINE.  Certain!  I  went  with  him  to  the  deposit 
vaults  this  afternoon,  and  was  with  him  until  he  placed 
them  in  the  safe  at  home. 

LEAVITT.  Are  you  sure  of  the  numbers?  That  is 
most  important!  (Both  stand  in  front  of  table.) 

CAINE.  (Takes  small  book  from  pocket.)  I've  got  a 
copy  of  Waters's  diary  here,  that  contains  a  full  descrip 
tion  of  every  security  he  holds,  as  individual  or  trustee. 

LEAVITT.  Well,  we're  in  luck !  I  hardly  believed  he'd 
ever  do  it  in  the  way  you  said.  It  seems  mighty  careless 
to  keep  over  a  million  dollars  of  negotiable  securities  in 
his  house  even  for  a  night. 

CAINE.  Why,  Joe,  my  boy,  those  fellows  get  so  used 
to  handling  millions  in  their  big  deals,  that  they  take  no 
more  notice  of  a  million  dollars  than  you  or  I  would  of 
a  thousand. 

LEAVITT.  (Gloating.)  Ah!  I'd  like  to  feel  that  way! 
But  I  could  never  sleep  with  that  much  wealth  in  my 
house.  I'd  sit  up  and  play  with  it  all  night.  (Sits.) 
These  counterfeits  are  so  perfect — why  risk  changing 
them? 

CAINE.     It's  the  safest  way — doubly  safe. 

LEAVITT.  Why  not  sell  these,  or  put  them  up  as 
collateral  for  a  big  loan,  and  skedoodle  before  the  trick 
is  discovered? 

CAINE.  It  might  be  done,  but  you'd  have  to  take  some 
time  to  get  a  reputation  as  a  big  borrower — we  haven't 
got  the  time  for  fancy  work. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  125 

LEAVITT.  Well,  I  suppose  that's  right !  But  I'd  rather 
take  a  chance  of  planting  a  few  hundreds  of  these,  than 
that  you  should  be  caught  by  Waters,  or  that  he  should 
find  out  that  the  whole  bunch  are  counterfeits. 

CAINE.     There's  no  danger  of  that! 

LEAVITT.  Oh !  to  get  so  near  success  and  then  to  fail ! 
It  would  break  my  heart ! 

CAINE.  Don't  you  worry  about  that!  My  plans  are 
too  well-laid.  These  packages  won't  be  opened  till 
Waters  hands  them  over  in  London,  and  there's  no  chance 
of  the  forgery  being  detected  there  for  many  weeks. 

LEAVITT.  Yes.  And,  anyhow,  even  then,  I  don't  see 
how  they  can  suspect  us  of  having  worked  the  deal. 

CAINE.  If  Waters's  deal  goes  through  in  London,  these 
bonds  will  be  scattered  into  hundreds  of  hands,  and  there 
will  be  muddle  enough  to  keep  the  police  of  both  coun 
tries  guessing  for  years. 

LEAVITT.  (Grinning.}  Yes!  Yes!  it's  great!  (Seri 
ously.)  But  I'm  afraid  of  the  girl!  Say,  why  should 
we  risk  everything  with  her? 

CAINE.  We  can't  help  it !  She  was  indispensable ! 
Without  her  we  could  only  have  worked  a  clumsy  job! 
By  her  aid,  we  avoid  all  risk ! 

LEAVITT.  Caine,  I've  laid  awake  night  after  night 
thinking  of  this  job !  I  tell  you  we're  fools  to  risk  every 
thing  with  that  petticoat. 

CAINE.     Oh !  you've  got  no  nerve ! 

LEAVITT.  I've  got  nerve  enough,  and  I'll  prove  it ! 
Til  raise  the  limit  with  you  tonight — now. 

CAINE.     What  do  you  mean,  Joe? 

LEAVITT.  We  must  get  rid  of  the  girl.  She  loves 
Waters,  and  when  she  finds  out  he  was  the  victim,  she'll 
give  us  away — cold. 

CAINE.  I  know ;  but  we  measured  that  risk  and  every 
other  when  we  planned  this  deal,  and  we  cannot  change 
now — it's  to  late! 

LEAVITT.     It's  not  too  late !     We  have  no  more  use  for 


126  THREE    PLAYS 

her!  I'll  toss  you  a  coin  for  her  share — or  split  even 
with  you. 

CAINE.     And  what  about  her? 

LEAVITT.  We  must  get  rid  of  her!  She'll  not  be 
missed  now  !  We  must  kill  her ! 

CAINE.  You  devil !  (Grabs  LEAVITT  and  chokes  him.) 
I'll  kill  you! 

LEAVITT.  (Chokingly.)  Let  go — you  hurt!  (CAINE 
throws  him  down.)  I  was  only  joking! 

CAINE.     You  lie — you  were  only  too  much  in  earnest. 

LEAVITT.  Well,  if  I  was!  It's  my  life  against  hers! 
If  she  gives  us  away,  I  might  as  well  be  dead. 

CAINE.  By  God,  sir,  I  never  realized  till  this  moment 
the  depths  to  which  my  avarice  has  caused  me  to  fall. 
Get  up  and  keep  as  far  from  me  as  possible. 

LEAVITT.  (Getting  up.)  Well,  I'm  sorry — forget  it. 
Don't  let  us  scrap  now!  Let  us  finish  the  job!  After 
all  it  looks  like  a  cinch !  Let's  have  a  drink. 

[CAINE  motions  to  desk.  LEAVITT  gets  bottle,  and 
pours  out  a  large  drink  which  he  swallows.  Then 
he  hands  bottle  and  glass  to  CAINE,  who  pushes  it 
away.  ] 

CAINE.  Leavitt,  you  were  never  nearer  death  than 
you  were  a  moment  ago. 

LEAVITT.     You  certainly  gave  me  a  scare ! 

CAINE.  I'm  not  a  quarrelsome  man,  but  if  I  had  had 
a  weapon  in  my  hand,  I  would  have  killed  you  like  a  rat. 

LEAVITT.      (Taking  another  drink.)     Forget  it! 

CAINE.  Let  it  be  a  warning  to  you  until  we  part  for 
ever  in  a  few  days. 

LEAVITT.  You've  certainly  got  a  nasty  temper!  I 
didn't  expect  it  from  you!  But  the  girl  gets  on  my 
nerves!  I  don't  understand  her!  I  never  knew  a  girl 
like  her  before — and  I've  known  a  good  many  of  them 
in  my  day. 

CAINE.  She's  a  lady,  Joe,  and  you're  not  used  to  that 
kind  of  woman.  She's  all  right  as  long  as  she  doesn't 
suspect  you're  in  the  deal.  I  had  an  awful  job  to  get  her 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  127 

to  come  here  to  work,  even  after  I  told  her  that  I  had 
bought  you  out,  and  that  you  had  gone  West.  (Starts.) 
I  hear  footsteps!  (Latchkey  is  heard  in  door.)  I'm 
coming,  my  dear.  (To  LEAVITT.)  Get  out,  quick. 
(LEAVITT  hastily  exit.  CAINE  opens  door.  DORA  comes 
in.  He  then  locks  door.)  You  look  tired,  Dora.  You've 
been  working  hard — but  it's  almost  done. 

DORA.  (Goes  to  closet  and  hangs  up  her  hat.  Speaks 
wearily.)  Yes,  almost  all  done.  (She  sits  at  desk  and 
begins  to  write.) 

CAINE.  And  then  in  a  few  days,  we  shall  be  able  to 
go  abroad,  and  the  sea  air  will  bring  your  mother  round 
again. 

DORA.  Poor  mother !  She's  almost  in  a  state  of  coma ! 
I  wish  I,  too,  could  sit  and  dream  and  forget.  Aren't 
you  going? 

CAINE.  (Walking  up  and  down  nervously.)  I'm 
going  to  wait  until  you're  finished.  I  must  have  them 
tonight.  If  you're  in  a  hurry  to  get  rid  of  me,  finish  the 
work,  and  I'll  go. 

DORA.  Oh  no,  not  that !  Don't  think  me  ungrateful ! 
You  have  been  very  kind!  (CAINE  advances,  puts  his 
arm  round  her  waist  and  attempts  to  kiss  her.  She 
pushes  his  face  away,  and  jumps  up  in  a  fury.)  How 
dare  you!  Why  did  you  touch  me?  (She  takes  up  re 
maining  bonds  and  tears  them  to  pieces;  then  throws  them 
on  the  ground  and  stamps  her  foot  on  them.  CAINE  has 
stepped  towards  her  and  tried  to  prevent  her  from  tear 
ing  them,  but  she  has  pushed  him  back.)  Oh!  I'm 
stifling!  Let  me  get  out  of  here  into  the  pure  air  of 
Heaven ! 

CAINE.  Dora!  Miss  Morris!  Please  be  calm!  I 
meant  no  wrong! 

DORA.  (Goes  to  door  and  finds  it  locked.)  Open  this 
door,  instantly! 

CAINE.  (Goes  up  to  DORA,  and  takes  both  her  hands.) 
Dora !  Miss  Morris  !  Won't  you  be  quiet  for  a  moment 
and  listen  to  me?  Why  should  you  be  insulted?  You 


128  THREE    PLAYS 

know  I  love  you,  have  loved  you  and  want  to  marry  yoi; 
Think  of  all  that  is  at  stake!     Think  of  your  mother! 

DORA.     (Turns  from  him.)     My  poor  mother! 

CAINE.  You  know  I  have  been  devoted  to  you,  an 
have  worked  with  only  your  comfort  and  your  mother 
in  my  mind. 

DORA.  Yes!  Yes!  But  you  should  not  insult  me- 
here  of  all  places,  where  the  memory  of  that  monste 
taints  the  very  atmosphere. 

CAINE.  (Coldly.)  If  my  honest  attentions  are  insuli 
ing,  I  will  refrain  from  pressing  them,  Miss  Morris. 

DORA.  That  kind  of  attention  from  you  or  anyone  i 
insulting — degrading — and  I'm  finished  with  the  who! 
business. 

CAINE.  You  are  nervous  and  excited  tonight — you  ar 
not  yourself. 

DORA.  No,  I  am  not  myself!  I  am  another  womai 
born  of  wrong  and  oppression — a  convicted  thief,  a  for£ 
er  by  choice — and  then  this!.  (With  a  bitter  and  di± 
gusted  groan.) 

CAINE.  (Crosses  back  of  table  to  safe.  Draws  a  glas 
of  water,  surreptitiously  puts  some  brandy  in  it,  an 
hands  it  to  DORA.)  Take  a  little  water,  Miss  Morris 
(He  stands  in  front  of  table.) 

DORA.  (Takes  it  and  gulps  it  down.)  Water!  Yo 
said  water!  This  is  whiskey! 

CAINE.  Yes,  you  are  very  nervous.  It  will  help  yo 
to  be  yourself. 

DORA.  Now,  let  me  go  home!  I  promised  mother  t 
be  back  in  half  an  hour.  Poor  thing !  she's  in  pain. 

CAINE.     She  will  not  live,  unless  she  gets  a  chang 
of    air    and    proper    medical    attention.     She    needs 
specialist. 

DORA.     And  we  are  outcasts  and  paupers ! 

CAINE.  Of  course  you  and  she  must  leave  Bostoi 
before  next  Tuesday,  or  you  will  have  to  stand  trial  ii 
the  Superior  Court  on  that  day. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  129 

DORA.  Oh  God!  how  bitter  life  is!  But  I  care  not 
what  happens  to  me ! 

CAINE.  But  think  of  your  mother!  By  remaining, 
you're  sentencing  yourself  to  prison,  and  her  to  a  pauper's 
grave. 

DORA.  Why  do  you  torture  me?  Let  me  get  away 
from  here — the  work  is  done  now — you  have  no  further 
need  of  me. 

CAINE.  Yes,  I  have,  Dora — I  shall  always  have  need 
of  you.  Let  me  be  as  a  son  to  your  mother. 

DORA.  (With  a  sigh.)  Yes,  and  mother  loves  you! 
You're  very  good,  and  I  suppose  I'm  nothing  but  a  hys 
terical  girl.  But  I  should  prefer  that  you  give  me  a  few 
thousand  dollars  to  take  my  mother  away  from  this  place, 
and  let  me  try  and  forget  the  price  which  I  have  paid. 
(Sits  down.  CAINE  makes  a  gesture  of  dissent.)  Ah! 
you  need  not  be  afraid  that  I  shall  betray  you ! 

CAINE.  But,  Dora,  you  must  brace  up.  You  have 
earned  your  share  to  the  fortune  which  will  be  ours  to 
morrow — three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  at  least,  will 
be  your  share,  and  as  much  more,  mine.  We  can  go 
abroad  and  live  a  princely  life  in  some  other  country,  and 
your  mother  will  live  and  die  in  the  surroundings  to 
which  she  has  been  accustomed,  and  is  entitled. 

DORA.  (Rises.)  Yes,  I  will  go!  It  is  better  so! 
But,  ( Clenches  her  fist  and  speaks  sternly. )  let  us  under 
stand  each  other,  Mr.  Caine.  You  have  done  me  the 
honor  to  make  love  to  me  on  several  occasions.  I  don't 
want  it.  My  heart  is  dead !  There  is  no  place  in  it  for 
love !  You  have  been  the  best  friend  I  have  had  since 
my  hour  of  trouble  and  you  have  been  the  worst  friend 
a  woman  ever  had.  You  have  helped  me  to  bear  up 
against  the  world  in  my  misery — but  you  have  helped  to 
nourish  and  cherish  the  bitterness  in  my  soul.  You  have 
cheered  me  in  the  face  of  false  accusations,  and  kept  me 
from  a  prison  cell — and  you  have  taught  me  to  defy  the 
law  and  commit  a  crime  which  would  send  me  to  such 
a  cell  for  ever. 


130  THREE    PLAYS 

CAINE.     (Coldly.)     You  are  very  severe,  Miss  Morris 

DORA.  I  am  just!  You  say  I  shall  be  rich  tomorrow 
Very  well!  You  will  have  kept  your  promise  to  mak 
me  rich  as  the  price  of  my  crime. 

CAINE.  Oh,  Dora!  Dora!  I  wish  you  would  believ 
that  my  love  for  you  is  sincere,  and  based  on  genuin 
admiration  for  your  qualities  of  head  and  heart !  Hav 
I  not  been  your  devoted  slave  since  I  have  known  you 
Let  me  still  serve  you !  All  I  ask  is  a  little  hope  that  yoi 
will  try  and  like  me  better  from  day  to  day,  as  I  prov 
my  unselfish  devotion  to  your  interests — and  you 
mother's. 

DORA.  Well,  be  it  so!  Perhaps,  some  day,  I  ma; 
change  my  mind;  and  if  I  may  judge  by  the  gradua 
moral  degeneration  which  has  taken  place  within  me  ii 
the  last  few  months,  perhaps  I  may  consider  even  a  love 
less  marriage  without  disgust  in  the  not  distant  future 
There !  shake  hands  on  our  bargain ! 

[They  shake  hands,  and  CAINE  kisses  her  hand  respect 
fully.} 

CAINE.  Now,  please,  hurry  up  and  finish  the  others 
as  I  must  take  them  all  with  me. 

DORA.  (Laughing.)  They  are  already  finished 
(Picks  up  some  of  the  pieces.} 

CAINE.  (With  a  groan,  picks  up  remaining  pieces.] 
Oh !  the  pity  of  it !  Over  a  thousand  dollars  and  as  goo< 
as  gold ! 

DORA.  (Laughing.)  Never  mind!  There's  enougl 
left,  and  we'll  burn  many  thousands  of  dollars  before  thi 
month  is  out. 

[She  and  CAINE  proceed  to  fold  up  the  remaining  bond, 
carefully.  ] 

CAINE.  (Puts  the  pieces  away  in  his  pocket.)  I  mus 
burn  every  vestige  of  this.  Now,  I  must  go ;  but  if  I  an 
lucky,  I'll  be  back  inside  of  half  an  hour.  Will  you  wait 

DORA.  I  will  wait  a  little,  but  mother  was  feeling 
unwell,  when  I  left,  and  I  must  not  stay  too  long. 

CAINE.     (As  he  exit.)     Au  revoir. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  131 

DORA.  (Sits  down.)  Oh!  the  weariness  and  the 
shame!  But  I  must  be  strong  and  bitter!  The  world 
and  my  false  friends  have  driven  me  to  this.  (Rises, 
takes  a  few  steps  up  and  down,  then  looks  at  her  watch.) 
Half  an  hour,  he  said.  I  will  have  time  to  go  to  our 
rooms  and  see  how  mother  is.  (She  goes  to  closet,  takes 
out  her  hat,  and  arranges  it  before  the  glass.  Turns  light 
out,  and  goes  towards  door.)  My  goodness,  I  am  getting 
absent-minded!  I  actually  forgot  to  shut  my  desk  and 
the  safe.  (She  closes  them,  occupying  a  minute  or  so 
putting  things  straight,  by  light  of  moon,  or  electric  light 
through  window  from  street.  She  then  goes  to  door. 
Just  as  she  is  about  to  exit,  she  hears  the  sound  of  a  key 
in  the  other  door  and  stops.)  Who  is  it?  Can  it  be  a 
burglar?  Or  the  police?  Yes,  it  is  the  police !  We  are 
discovered. 

[LEAVITT  enters,  and  feels  about  for  electric  button.] 

LEAVITT.  Where  is  that  damned  button?  I  ought  to 
know.  ( Turns  on  light. ) 

DORA.  (Steps  into  closet.)  It  is  Leavitt!  What  is 
he  doing  here?  He  went  to  California! 

LEAVITT.  Ah !  my  pretty  forger  is  gone !  I  wonder 
if  the  desk  is  locked.  I  must  get  another  drink  of  Caine's 
brandy!  My  stomach  and  my  nerves  are  all  broken  up. 
(He  tries  desk  and  finds  it  locked.  Bangs  it  with  his 
hand.  Feels  in  his  pocket  and  takes  out  bunch  of  keys, 
with  one  of  which  he  opens  the  desk.  Finds  brandy  and 
takes  a  drink.)  Three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand,  Caine 
said — there  was  over  a  million !  Hang  him,  it  should  be 
an  even  divide!  If  he's  going  to  marry  the  girl,  why 
should  they  get  two-thirds  between  them?  (Telephone 
rings.) 

DORA.  (From  closet.)  He  knows!  Leavitt  is  in  the 
plot!  He  gets  a  share! 

LEAVITT.  (At  telephone.)  Hello!  Hello!  Hello! 
(Pause.)  No,  the  pretty  bird  has  gone  home  and  left 
everything  locked  up  tight  this  time.  (Pause.)  No,  I 
haven't  been  drinking  again!  (Pause).  What's  that? 


132  THREE    PLAYS 

You  can  tell  by  my  voice!  Can  you  smell  my  breath? 
(Pause.)  Well,  just  one  to  steady  my  nerves.  Don't 
worry  about  it !  (Pause. )  Everything  O.  K.  Good ! 
(Pause.)  Coming  right  down.  All  right!  Good-bye! 
(Hangs  up  receiver.  Executes  awkwardly  a  step  of  a 
dance. )  Three  hundred  and  fifty  thousand  cold  kaloons  ! 
Oh !  it's  almost  too  good  to  be  true !  Joe  Leavitt,  you're 
a  great  man !  But  it's  a  pity  to  give  so  much  money  to 
the  girl !  What  would  a  woman  do  with  all  that  money? 
Well !  Well !  Well !  I  must  go  out  and  get  a  bromo  seltzer 
before  Caine  gets  here,  or  there  will  be  the  devil  of  a  row. 
(£**>.) 

DORA.  (Enters  from  closet.)  How  does  Leavitt  know? 
Caine  told  me  he  had  bought  the  business  from  him.  It 
was  just  a  trick  to  deceive  me,  because  the  work  could 
not  be  done  without  the  engraving  plant,  and  without 
Leavitt  to  make  the  plates  and  print  off  the  sheets.  I 
must  have  been  a  fool  not  to  think  of  that.  I  ought  to 
have  known  that  there  must  be  another  person  in  the 
work  besides  Caine  and  me.  Caine  told  me  he  had  a 
man  in  his  employ,  and  I  didn't  stop  to  think,  or  I  should 
have  known  that  Caine  would  not  have  risked  that  work 
and  that  knowledge  with  anyone.  And  to  think  that  I 
have  been  made  a  tool — a  partner  with  that  monster !  Oh ! 
the  humiliation !  The  shame !  I  should  like  to  strike 
him  dead!  They  are  coming!  I  can't  get  away! 

[Voices  and  footsteps  are  heard  outside,  and  she  goes 
into  closet.  Enter  CAINE  and  LEAVITT.] 

CAINE.  (Throws  lawyer's  large  cloth  bag,  bulging,  on 
table. )  There  you  are,  my  boy,  the  trick's  done ! 

LEAVITT.     How  much  is  there? 

CAINE.     They  will  sell  for  more  than  a  million  dollars. 

LEAVITT.  Bravo !  Great !  But  won't  it  hit  the  haughty 
Waters  hard? 

CAINE.  Hit  him?  It  will  kill  him!  His  own  share 
of  this  pool  is  only  a  fifth;  but  if  the  courts  hold  him 
responsible  for  the  loss  of  it  all,  it  will  ruin  him. 

LEAVITT.     (Bitterly.)     Well,  it  will  do  him  good  to 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  133 

know  how  it  feels  to  be  poor  and  hungry,  and  it  will  be 
a  new  feeling  for  you  and  me  to  have  money  to  burn. 
(CAINE  locks  door,  while  LEAVITT  takes  out  a  package  of 
bonds  and  counts  them  silently.)  A  hundred,  and  every 
one  worth  over  a  thousand  dollars !  Ah!  (Gloatingly.) 
Life!  Joy!  Happiness!  Heaven!  all  in  this  little  bunch! 
Come,  Caine,  give  me  my  share,  and  let  me  go — let  me 
get  out! 

CAINE.  (Takes  bag  from  LEAVITT.)  Not  so  fast,  my 
dear  Adonis !  There's  to  be  no  sharing  and  no  division, 
until  the  bonds  are  sold  or  otherwise  disposed  of. 

LEAVITT.  But  why?  Let  each  take  his  own  share, 
and  dispose  of  it  in  his  own  time. 

CAINE.  Not  on  your  life,  Joe  Leavitt !  Our  agree 
ment  was,  that  you  and  I  were,  between  us,  to  sell  these 
bonds  in  lots  of  five  and  ten  thousand  in  New  York, 
Philadelphia,  Pittsburg,  and  Chicago.  Now,  that's  the 
programme!  It  can  be  done  easily  and  safely  within  a 
week. 

[DORA  opens  door  of  closet  slightly  to  hear  conversa 
tion.  ] 

LEAVITT.  But  why  not  each  take  his  own,  and  dispose 
of  them  as  he  wishes.  All  I  want  is  my  share. 

CAINE.  It  might  be  all  right,  my  boy,  but  a  slight 
blunder,  or  an  extra  cocktail  on  your  part  might  give  a 
clue,  and  cause  me  to  be  nabbed ;  and  so  I  must  insist  on 
the  original  compact  being  kept  to  the  letter. 

LEAVITT.  (Sneeringly.)  I  didn't  make  a  blunder 
selling  those  pink  pearls,  did  I  ? 

CAINE.     No,  you're  entitled  to  credit  for  that  deal ! 

LEAVITT.  And  you  got  your  share  without  risk  and 
trouble  ? 

CAINE.  That's  all  right,  old  Jupiter  Pluvius;  but 
nevertheless,  I  am  going  to  arrange  all  the  details  of  this 
transaction. 

LEAVITT.  Well,  I  suppose  it's  all  right!  What's  the 
programme  ? 

CAINE.     After  Waters  sails  tomorrow,  we  will  each 


I34  THREE    PLAYS 

take  a  hundred  of  these  and  go  to  New  York  and  sell  them 
through  different  brokers.  We  will  then  take  a  bunch  to 
Philadelphia  and  Chicago  in  the  same  way,  until  the  lot 
are  disposed  of. 

LEAVITT.  But  what  shall  we  do  with  what  are  left 
here? 

CAINE.     They  will  be  safe  here  in  Miss  Morris's  care. 

LEAVITT.     But  is  it  safe  to  leave  them  with  her? 

CAINE.  They'll  be  safer  than  they  would  be  with  you, 
old  Judas  Maccabaeus. 

LEAVITT.  (With  attempted  dignity.}  Oh!  I  don't 
know!  I  don't  put  much  stock  in  women! 

CAINE.  Well,  that  goes  anyway.  Now,  I  must  get 
back.  Waters  came  home  just  as  I  got  the  stuff,  and  in 
my  nervousness,  I  came  away  without  locking  the  safe. 

LEAVITT.  You  idiot!  Suppose  he  should  see  it.  He 
would  suspect  something,  and  the  game  would  be  up. 

CAINE.  (Laughing.)  He'd  certainly  think  that  I  was 
careless.  But  he  trusts  me  implicitly — and  besides,  if  he 
opened  the  safe,  he'd  find  his  bonds  apparently  O.  K. 

LEAVITT.  All  right,  rush  along!  I'll  take  care  of  the 
bonds. 

CAINE.  (With  a  snarl.)  Oh,  no,  you  don't.  I've 
worked  and  waited  for  five  years  for  just  this,  and  I'm 
not  going  to  deliver  my  future  into  your  gentle  hands. 

LEAVITT.     (  With  a  snarl. )    Do  you  mean  to  insult  me  ? 

CAINE.     You  can  take  it  that  way  if  you  like,  Joe. 

LEAVITT.  Look  at  here!  I'm  not  going  to  stand  for 
this!  I'm  not  a  thief! 

CAINE.  No,  you're  President  of  the  Chinatown  Sun 
day  school,  and  all  the  rest  of  it;  but  you  and  I  have 
engineered  this  deal  to  steal  a  million  dollars  from  Ed 
ward  Waters  and  his  syndicate,  and  I  shouldn't  like  to 
tempt  the  honorable  Joe  Leavitt,  formerly  Joe  Levi,  with 
the  possession  of  so  much  negotiable  wealth.  You  might 
be  tempted  to  fall  from  grace. 

LEAVITT.  Well,  if  you  don't  trust  me,  I  ain't  going 
to  trust  you. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  135 

CAINE.  Well,  you've  got  to  trust  me  until  the  deal's 
through. 

LEAVITT.     What  are  you  going  to  do? 

CAINE.  I'm  going  to  put  this  bag  in  the  safe  until 
tomorrow,  and  you  are  going  to  give  me  up  the  key  to 
the  inner  door. 

LEAVITT.     I'll  be  shot  if  I  do ! 

CAINE.     (Pointing  pistol.)    You'll  be  shot  if  you  don't. 

LEAVITT.     Oh,  all  right. 

CAINE.  I'll  meet  you  here  after  the  boat  sails — say, 
nine  o'clock — and  we  can  take  the  ten  train  to  New  York. 

LEAVITT.  Have  it  your  own  way — there's  no  need  to 
quarrel  about  it  now.  We've  been  good  friends  a  long 
time,  and  we'll  make  a  pretty  good  thing  out  of  this. 

CAINE.  Your  head  is  level,  Joe.  (He  goes  to  safe 
and  works  combination  to  open  it. ) 

LEAVITT.  My  head's  splitting!  I  .  think  I'll  take 
another  souse  of  cold  water.  (He  goes  to  wash-basin, 
and  washes  hands  and  face.  CAINE  has  opened  safe,  un 
locked  inner  door,  and  is  counting  packages  before  putting 
bag  in  safe.)  Where  are  the  towels?  (LEAVITT  goes  to 
closet  where  DORA  is  hiding,  and  tries  to  open  door.) 

CAINE.  In  the  closet !  I  wonder  what's  keeping  Dora. 
I'll  have  a  look  around. 

[LEAVITT  tries  to  open  door  of  closet,  but  cannot.  He 
works  himself  into  a  rage,  and  at  last  bangs  on  door 
with  his  fist  and  snarls.  He  then  turns  round,  takes 
up  a  chair  to  smash  door.  He  poises  the  chair  above 
his  head.  Enter  CAINE.] 

CAINE.  Keep  quiet.  Are  you  crazy  to  yell  like  that? 
Do  you  want  to  bring  the  police  in  ? 

LEAVITT.     I'm  nervous,  that's  all! 

CAINE.  Understand  me,  Leavitt.  I've  very  nearly 
reached  the  limit  of  my  endurance  with  you,  and  it  would 
take  but  little  more  to  make  me  chuck  the  whole  thing  up. 

LEAVITT.  Til  be  all  right!  Lend  me  your  handker 
chief,  I  haven't  got  one. 

[CAINE.  gives  him  his  handkerchief,  and  LEAVITT  dries 


136  THREE    PLAYS 

his  hands  and  face  on  it,  then  hands  it  back  to  GAINED 
who  throws  it  in  the  waste  basket.     LEAVITT  picks 
it  out  and  puts  it  in  his  pocket.     CAINE  locks  inner 
door  of  safe,  and  then  shuts  safe.] 
Now  let's  go ! 

CAINE.     All  right,  old  man,  but  first,  let  me  have  that 
key. 

LEAVITT.     I  forgot! 

[Takes  a  key  off  his  bunch,  and  hands  it  to  CAINE. 

He  goes  to  door.] 

CAINE.     (Crosses  to  electric  light  button  to  turn  out 
light. )     But  my  memory  is  good ! 

[They  exeunt.     Shut  and  lock  door.     DORA  opens  door 

of  closet,  and  listens  until  their  retreating  footsteps 

die  away,  and  the  outer  door  is  heard  to  bang.] 

DORA.      (Runs  to  safe,  and  turns  combination  for  some 

seconds.      Then  tries  to  turn  the  handle  and  fails.)      I 

have  missed  it !     (She  turns  the  knob  rapidly  again  fof 

a  few  seconds,  and  again  tries  the  handles.)     Missed  it 

again!     I  must  have  light!     (Runs  to  button.     Pauses.) 

No,  if  I  turn  up  the  light,  they  may  see  it  and  return. 

(Gets  a  match.     Runs   to   safe  again,   lights   a   match, 

holds  it  with  one  hand,  and  works  the  combination  with 

the  other.     As  match  dies  out,  she  drops  it,  tries  handle, 

and  the  outer  door  opens.     Then  she  takes  key  from  her 

pocket,  lights  another  match,  opens  door,  takes  Out  bag 

and  goes  to  centre  door. )     Now,  it's  my  turn ! 

CURTAIN 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  137 


ACT  IV. 

[Same  as  ACT  I.  Half  an  hour  later,  CAINE  enters 
leisurely  and  looks  round.  Seeing  no  one,  he  makes 
a  rush  for  the  safe,  and  draws  back  curtain  which 
covers  it.] 

CAINE.  Still  unlocked!  It  has  escaped  his  attention! 
(Opens  door,  and  peeps  in.)  All  right!  (Shuts  doors, 
turns  combination,  and  adjusts  curtain.  Enter  WATERS 
and  JACK.) 

JACK.  Hello,  Caine,  working  away  as  usual.  You're 
a  devil  of  a  fellow  for  work. 

CAINE.  How-do-you-do,  Mr.  Rich.  Yes,  work  is  my 
only  pleasure. 

JACK.  You're  a  lucky  dog,  Waters,  to  have  such  a 
man  as  Caine  to  do  your  drudgery.  (He  and  WATERS  sit 
down. ) 

WATERS.  Yes,  he's  been  a  great  help  to  me  lately,  but 
I'm  afraid  he's  worked  too  hard;  and  while  I  am  away 
from  Boston,  he  will  have  a  few  weeks  of  much-needed 
rest  that  will  do  him  good. 

CAINE.  I'm  all  right,  sir;  but  I'm  afraid  you  work 
too  hard  yourself,  and  you  need  a  rest  as  much  as  I  do. 

WATERS.  Yes,  I'm  pretty  tired,  and  I  expect  to  be 
greatly  benefited  by  the  long  voyage. 

JACK.  That's  the  reason  you  chose  one  of  those  slow 
old  tubs  from  Boston? 

WATERS.  Yes,  that's  the  reason.  I  say,  Caine,  you'd 
better  change  your  mind,  and  sail  with  me  in  the  morning. 

CAINE.  No,  thank  you,  sir,  I  have  made  other  arrange 
ments.  I'm  going  west  to  look  after  a  little  property  I 
have  in  Chicago. 

WATERS.     All  right,  take  it  your  own  way.     You  can 


138  THREE    PLAYS 

draw  on  me  for  five  hundred  in  excess  of  your  salary 
to  help  you  to  have  a  good  time. 

CAINE.  (Shows  signs  of  repentance.)  You're  very 
good,  sir. 

WATERS.  Not  at  all!  You're  worth  it  and  more!. 
Now,  run  along  to  bed.  I'll  see  you  at  breakfast  in  the 
morning. 

JACK.     Good-night,  Caine. 

CAINE.     Good-night,  gentlemen.     (Exits.) 

WATERS.     Light  up,  old  man. 

JACK.  Now,  you  old  dog,  there's  something  the  matter 
with  you  besides  business.  You  haven't  been  yourself 
for  the  past  few  months. 

WATERS.  Well,  I've  had  some  little  private  worries, 
but  I'll  be  all  right  when  I  get  away  from  here. 

JACK.  You're  not  worrying  about  those  bally  old 
pearls,  are  you? 

WATERS.     Partly  that,  old  man. 

JACK.  Now,  look  here,  you  old  rhinoceros,  forget 
them !  I  wouldn't  have  you  worry  yourself  like  this  for 
six  times  the  amount. 

WATERS.  Ah!  it  isn't  the  value  that  worries  me  so 
much,  as  the  shattering  of  my  ideals. 

JACK.  (Seriously.)  Oh,  yes,  the  girl!  You  were 
badly  hit  there,  weren't  you? 

WATERS.  I  don't  know  how  to  talk  about  it,  old  man, 
even  with  you.  But  I  had  allowed  her  presence  to  creep 
into  my  heart,  and,  in  spite  of  what  happened,  then,  and 
what  has  happened  since,  I  can't  forget  her. 

JACK.  Why  don't  you  come  out  more,  and  have  a 
good  time !  There  are  lots  more  jolly,  good  girls,  though, 
in  my  opinion,  none  of  them  is  half  good  enough  for  you. 

WATERS.  Ah,  Jack!  she  was  one  in  a  million.  I  had 
watched  her  grow  from  childhood  into  budding  youth  and 
beautiful  womanhood,  and  her  mind  kept  pace  in  devel 
opment  with  her  body.  She  was  capable  of  great  things, 
and  a  noble  woman  withal — and  yet  she  fell  so  easily. 
Ah  !  my  poor  hopes ! 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  139 

JACK.  Well,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I  believe  she  took  those 
pearls,  in  spite  of  everything. 

WATERS.  You  don't?  Ah,  Jack!  I  tried  hard  to  be 
lieve  it,  too,  but  this  other  affair  shakes  my  confidence; 
and  my  business  experience  of  the  sex  has  taught  me  that 
woman  is  frail. 

JACK.  Oh!  you're  too  upright — you  make  me  tired 
sometimes.  Isn't  man  frail?  Don't  we  do  things  every 
day,  that  we'd  eternally  damn  our  wives  and  sisters  for? 
To  the  devil  with  reason  and  evidence!  I  don't  believe 
she  took  the  bally  stones!  (Pause.)  I  believe  my  old 
grand  dam  caused  them  to  disappear,  through  spite  at 
having  broken  her  injunction. 

WATERS.  (Smiling.)  You're  a  good  fellow,  Jack, 
and  I  wish  there  were  more  like  you  in  the  world.  It 
does  me  lots  of  good  to  get  away  from  the  matter-of-fact 
people  I  meet  in  business,  and  to  have  an  hour  with  a 
natural,  whole-souled  fellow  like  yourself. 

JACK.     Have  you  ever  heard  from  her  since  the  trial? 

WATERS.  Not  a  word!  Caine  has  had  several  dis 
creet  detectives  looking  for  her,  but  she  has  disappeared 
completely. 

JACK.  That  is  the  best  that  could  have  happened,  old 
man. 

WATERS.  Yes,  I  suppose  so!  If  she  had  to  stand 
trial  before  a  jury,  the  facts  of  her  identity  would  surely 
have  come  out,  and  given  the  yellow  papers  a  glorious 
opportunity  to  roast  a  fallen  aristocrat.  But  it  troubles 
me  to  think  that  she  will  have  to  forfeit  the  bail  and  be 
defaulted,  thus  acknowledging  the  crime. 

JACK.  It's  a  rotten  shame,  the  whole  business.  Now, 
I  must  say  goodnight — it's  getting  pretty  late. 

WATERS.     Won't  you  stay  here  for  the  night? 

JACK.  No  thanks,  old  man,  I  won't  trouble  you,  but 
I'll  be  at  the  boat  in  the  morning  to  say  good-bye.  (From 
door.)  And,  say,  old  man,  if  you  don't  find  Miss  Morris 
and  marry  her,  I'll  claim  her  myself!  Begad!  even 


140  THREE    PLAYS 

before  I  broke  off  with  Helen,  over  that  bally  necklace, 
I  often  comitted  treason  in  that  direction. 

WATERS.  (Laughing.)  Well,  the  field  is  still  open, 
since  you  are  unattached.  You  have  as  good  a  chance  as 
anybody. 

JACK.  Me  as  good  a  chance  as  anybody?  Yes,  I 
know  I  have — anybody  but  you!  Say,  Waters,  you're 
as  blind  as  a  bat — or  can  it  be,  that  the  light  is  too  strong 
for  your  eyes?  Good  night,  old  man. 

WATERS.  Good  night,  and  good  rest!  (Exit  JACK.) 
It's  stuffy  in  here,  and  this  big  house  and  these  empty 
rooms  begin  to  pall  upon  me.  Well,  I'll  take  a  pipe  and 
cool  off,  and  then  to  bed. 

[Takes  off  his  coat  and  throws  it  on  a  chair.  Then 
turns  light  out,  and  sits  down  in  back  corner  near 
window.  DORA'S  face  appears  at  window.  He  takes 
pipe  and  tobacco  jar,  and  slowly  fills  pipe.  Strikes 
a  match  on  his  trousers,  and  just  as  it  is  lighting  up, 
he  hears  the  sound  of  someone  entering  the  open 
window.  He  blows  match  out,  and  sits,  transfixed, 
with  match  in  one  hand,  and  pipe  in  the  other.  DORA 
is  seen  to  climb  carefully  through  window.  As  he 
sees  the  shadow  on  the  floor,  he  reaches  back  to  the 
desk,  and  takes  revolver  which  he  holds  ready.  As 
DORA  enters  room,  he  pulls  the  white  curtain  partly 
over  himself  (he  is  dressed  in  white  shirt  and  light 
flannel  trousers).] 

DORA.  Ah!  this  room  is  so  familiar,  and  I  used  to 
love  it  so  well. 

[She  moves  round  darkened  room,  until  she  comes  to 
the  safe.     She  draws  the  curtain  back,  and  feels  for 
the  handle.] 
It  is  locked ! 

[WATERS   turns  on  light,   and  points  revolver  at  the 

crouching  figure.  ] 

WATERS.  I'm  sorry  to  disappoint  you!  (As  DORA 
jumps  to  her  feet  and  faces  him,  he  drops  revolver  to 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  141 

the  floor.}  My  God !  Dora,  again ! — just  as  a  little  hope 
was  creeping  into  my  heart.  Woman!  Woman!  what 
fate  do  you  deserve? 

DORA.      (Calmly.)     The  penetentiary,  I  suppose.     (In 
hard,  bitter  voice. )     Why  don't  you  ring  for  the  servants 
and  send  for  the  police?     I  am  at  your  mercy. 
WATERS.     Have  you  no  shame  nor  fear? 
DORA.      (Lightly.)     Shame?     Am  I  not  in  the  house 
of   my  old   friend,   Edward  Waters?     What  have  I   to 
fear?     Am  I  not  already  a  convicted  thief?     Come,  put 
an  end  to  it !     There  is  the  telephone !     Call  the  police ! 
WATERS.      (Angrily.)     My  God!  Dora,  this  is  worse 
than  I  thought!     Are  you  a  blackmailer? 

DORA.  Oh !  no  !  no  !  don't  believe  that !  (She  breaks 
down  and  cries. . .  He  walks  up  and  down,  showing  great 
worry. ) 

WATERS.      (Firmly.)     Sit  down! 
DORA.     I  won't!     Send  for  the  police,  and  give  me  in 
charge,  or  let  me  go ! 

WATERS.  (Takes  her  with  some  roughness  by  the  arm, 
and  forces  her  into  a  seat.  He  stands  over  her.)  Would 
you  be  surprised  to  hear  that  I  was  thinking  of  you, 
when  you  so  unceremoniously  entered  my  window? 

DORA.  (Slightly  hysterically.)  Thinking  of  me? 
Why  should  you  be  thinking  of  me? 

WATERS.  I  was  thinking  how  much  I  missed  you 
when  you  went  out  of  my  life. 

DORA.  Out  of  your  life!  I  was  never  in  your  life! 
Please  let  me  go. 

[She  tries  to  stand  up,  but  WATERS  puts  her  gently 

back  in  the  chair.} 

WATERS.  I  am  forced  to  believe  that  you  have  become 
a  common  thief — why,  I  cannot  understand — it  is  beyond 
me.  But,  seing  you  here  now,  a  burglar  in  my  house, 
with  the  intent  in  your  heart  of  breaking  into  my  safe  and 
ruining  me,  I  still  love  you,  I  love  you,  Dora. 


142  THREE    PLAYS 

DORA.  (Hysterically.)  Oh,  no,  no,  no,  don't  torture 
me !  I  don't  believe  it !  Let  me  go ! 

[Gets  up  and  attempts  to  reach  door,  but  WATERS  stops 
her.] 

WATERS.     Dora,  don't  go  away! 

DORA.     Please  let  me  go!     It  is  cruel  to  jest! 

WATERS.  Jest !  Oh  darling,  I  was  never  more  serious 
in  my  life!  Can't  you  love  me  just  a  little  bit? 

DORA.  (Laughs  hysterically.)  Perhaps  I  could — if  I 
were  not  a  thief!  How  can  you  love  a  convict? 

WATERS.  I  don't  care  what  you  are — you  are  the 
woman  I  love.  If  you  stole,  it  was  because  you  couldn't 
buy  what  you  needed.  As  my  wife,  you  will  have  wealth 
enough  to  gratify  all  your  desires,  and  temptation  cannot 
come  your  way. 

DORA.  But  if  you  loved  me  truly,  you  would  not 
believe  me  guilty  of  theft  and  burglary. 

WATERS.  To  do  wrong,  is  part  of  our  humanity.  Let 
me  guard  you  from  temptation.  You  are  all  the  world 
to  me! 

DORA.     That  is  not  love !     You  do  not  love  me. 

WATERS.  Dora,  dearest,  I  have  loved  you  for  years — 
you  have  been  my  ideal  my  hope. 

DORA.  And  yet  you  allowed  yourself  to  believe  me 
guilty  of  a  vulgar  crime. 

WATERS.  You  can  never  know  how  hard  I  struggled 
to  believe  you  innocent.  But  the  facts — the  evidence  was 
so  strong — so  crushing.  How  could  anyone  of  my  train 
ing  believe  otherwise. 

DORA.     (Bitterly.)     Love  shouldn't  yield  to  logic. 

WATERS.  But  if  our  positions  were  reversed,  you  would 
have  been  compelled  to  believe  me  guilty. 

DORA.  Never!  The  sworn  oath  of  a  thousand  men 
would  be  as  nothing  against  the  word  of  the  man  I  love ! 
Oh !  the  bitterness  and  pain  of  these  long  weeks  when  a 
little  faith  would  have  made  our  lives  so  different. 

WATERS.  But  I  loved  you  through  it  all — and  craved 
for  your  love.  Be  mine,  and  I  will  have  faith  for  ever. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  143 

DORA.  But  you  believe  me  guilty  of  these  horrible 
crimes  ? 

WATERS.  I  love  you  in  spite  of  them,  Dora.  Do  try 
to  love  me  a  little.  (Takes  her  in  his  arms.) 

DORA.     I  do  love  you. 

WATERS.  Now  that  I  know  you  love  me,  I  will  not  let 
you  out  of  my  sight  until  we  are  man  and  wife. 

DORA.  Yes,  I  love  you,  dearest,  better  than  life  or 
liberty.  But  now,  release  me  from  this  bear-like  hug 
of  yours,  because  I  want  to  talk  to  you  like  a  man,  and 
I  cannot  argue  with  you  while  you  dominate  me  like  this. 

WATERS.  Say  you  love  me — like  a  woman,  once  more, 
and  then  you  can  talk  to  me  like  a  man,  if  you  wish. 

DORA.  (Puts  her  arms  round  his  neck.)  My  darling, 
with  all  my  heart.  (Kisses  him,  then  sits  down.  He 
tries  to  sit  beside  her.)  No,  no,  I'm  going  to  talk  like  a 
man.  Sit  over  there — or,  rather,  go  to  the  table,  and  look 
at  the  contents  of  the  bag. 

[WATERS  goes  to  table  and  opens  bag.  He  shows 
great  astonishment  as  he  examines  the  bundles  of 
bonds.] 

WATERS.  Bonds!.  (Looks  at  numbers.)  These  are 
all  of  the  syndicate's  bonds.  (Goes  to  safe.)  The  safe 
is  locked!  (Sits  down  and  lights  pipe.)  Now,Madame 
la  Magicienne,  I  am  ready  for  an  explanation  of  this 
mystery. 

DORA.  The  explanation  is  simple — I  didn't  take  your 
bonds. 

WATERS.  You  didn't?  Oh,  sweetheart,  I  am  so 
pleased!  But,  I'm  afraid  you're  taxing  my  imagination 
too  much,  Miss  Burglar,  when  you  say  you  didn't  steal 
the  bonds. 

DORA.     I  did  steal  them. 

WATERS.  Well,  it  was  the  quickest  thing  I  ever  heard 
of.  I  didn't  think  you  had  time  to  open  the  safe. 

DORA.  I  didn't  take  them  from  your  safe.  They  were 
taken  from  there  this  evening.  I  stole  them  from  the 
thieves. 


144  THREE    PLAYS 

WATERS.     Ha !     Go  on  !     Who  were  the  thieves  ? 

DORA.     I  was  one  of  them. 

WATERS.     Yes  ? 

DORA.  Your  charming  acquaintance,  Mr.  Leavitt,  was 
another. 

WATERS.  I  suspected  his  honesty,  but  I  had  to  do 
business  with  him,  as  he  is  one  of  the  best  engravers  in 
the  country.  Who  next? 

DORA.  Your  charming  and  accomplished  confidential 
secretary,  Mr.  Caine. 

WATERS.     The  devil ! 

DORA.  Yes,  I  believe  he  is  the  devil !  Now,  open 
your  safe  and  the  mystery  will  be  further  explained. 

WATERS.  (Opens  safe  and  takes  out  bonds  which  he 
compares  with  others.)  Duplicates!  Forgeries!  This 
is  startling!  (Throws  one  of  the  bundles  on  table.) 

DORA.  Don't  mix  the  counterfeits  with  the  real  bonds 
—you  will  never  be  able  to  tell  them  from  the  genuine. 

WATERS.     Who  did  these? 

DORA.  Leavitt  did  the  engraving  and  I  did  the  forg 
eries. 

WATERS.  Poor  little  girl !  What  have  you  been 
through?  How  could  you  associate  with  such  people? 

DORA.  It  is  not  a  long  story,  and  I  will  explain  endugh 
for  you  to  understand  all.  Caine  and  Leavitt  stole  those 
pearls,  and  managed  to  throw  suspicion  on  me.  You 
know  how  I  was  ostracised,  and,  when,  after  father's 
death,  mother  and  I  were  penniless,  Caine  helped  us  with 
money  and  sympathy,  and  he  got  me  a  position  with 
Leavitt  where  my  talent  was  useful.  You  know  about 
my  arrest  and  conviction  on  Leavitt's  testimony,  and,  you 
know,  also,  that  without  my  supposed  connection  with  the 
pearls,  I  should  never  have  been  held  by  the  court. 

WATERS.  Dear  little  woman,  you  shall  have  every 
reparation. 

DORA.  And  when  my  soul  was  filled  with  despair  and 
anger  against  God  and  man,  and  my  mind  too  numb  to 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  145 

reason  between  right  and  wrong,  Caine  persuaded  me 
to  do  this  work. 

WATERS.  (Takes  DORA  in  his  arms.)  Every  hour  of 
my  life  shall  be  devoted  to  you,,  sweetheart,  so  that  you 
may  forget  the  pain  and  punishment.  As  for  Caine,  I 
will  settle  with  him  now. 

DORA.  Don't  be  hard  on  him !  Without  his  assistance, 
Mother  and  I  would  have  suffered  more  than  we  did; 
and,  if  he  hadn't  bailed  me  out,  I  should  have  been  still 
in  prison. 

WATERS.  (Rings  bell.)  Yes,  he  bailed  you  out  with 
my  money.  Now,  go  behind  that  screen  for  a  moment. 
(Enter  SERVANT.)  Send  Mr.  Caine  to  me  immediately. 
(Exit  SERVANT.)  When  did  he  change  the  bonds? 

DORA.  (Conies  from  behind  screen.)  Only  this  even 
ing.  When  I  discovered  the  real  facts,  I  took  the  bonds 
and  came  here,  determined  to  get  them  back  to  you  some 
how,  and  then  I  saw  your  window  open,  and  without 
stopping  to  think,  I  entered. 

WATERS.  'Twas  a  divine  inspiration.  Now,  go  into 
that  room  for  a  few  minutes,  dear.  (Exit  DORA.  Enter 
CAINE.  He  starts  when  he  sees  the  bonds.)  Well,  Caine, 
you  nearly  got  away  with  them ! 

CAINE.     What  do  you  mean,  sir? 

WATERS.  Cut  that  out,  I  tell  you!  If  I  hear  another 
hypocritical  word,  I'll  knock  your  head  off. 

CAINE.      (Surlily.)     Well,  what's  up? 

WATERS.     Your  friend,  Leavitt  is  under  arrest — 

CAINE.     The  dirty,  drunken  pig! 

WATERS.  Here  are  my  bonds  returned  with  your 
beautiful  copies.  Have  a  look  at  them. 

CAINE.     (Takes  a  step  to  table.)     The  damned  hound! 

WATERS.     He  also  confessed  that  you  stole  the  pearls. 

CAINE.  Well,  what  if  I  did?  I  stole  the  pearls,  and 
had  a  hand  in  these  bonds.  Now,  do  your  worst ! 

WATERS.  And  you  were  also  in  the  plot  with  Leavitt 
to  convict  Miss  Morris  when  she  was  charged  with  the 
larceny  of  Leavitt's  money. 


146  THREE    PLAYS 

CAINE.  Well,  that's  a  lie !  I'll  stand  for  my  share  of 
the  racket,  but  none  of  his !  I  worked  on  the  girl's  good 
nature,  partly  because  we  needed  her  services,  and  partly 
because  I  loved  her  and  wanted  to  marry  her. 

WATERS.     You  cur! 

CAINE.  If  that's  being  a  cur,  I  am  a  cur,  and  you're 
a  great  big  Newfoundland  dog.  You  were  born  with  a 
silver  spoon  for  your  porridge,  and  a  gold  mug  for  your 
milk.  What  do  you  know  about  temptation?  About  the 
difference  between  good  and  bad? 

WATERS.  Keep  your  tongue  quiet  or  I'll  lose  my 
temper,  and  break  every  bone  in  your  yellow  skin. 

CAINE.  Yes,  I  know  you  would.  That's  the  big  dog 
again  worrying  the  poor  little  terrier. 

WATERS.  Caine,  you're  a  scoundrel — a  clever  scoun 
drel,  but  I  could  forgive  you  everything  but  the  dragging 
of  Miss  Morris  into  this  dirty  business.  I'll  never  for 
give  that!  Now,  sit  right  down  there  immediately,  and 
write  a  confession  of  your  and  Leavitt's  part  in  this 
business. 

CAINE.  I  won't!  (WATERS  grabs  him  by  the  neck 
and  chokes  him  savagely.}  You'll  kill  me !  (Struggles.) 
Let  me  go ! 

WATERS.  (Throws  him  across  room.)  Now  will  you 
write  that  confession? 

CAINE.     No ! 

WATERS.  I  want  to  remind  you  that  Leavitt  is  going 
to  turn  State's  evidence,  and  unless  you  get  in  ahead  of 
him,  he  will  get  a  light  sentence,  and  you  will  pay  the 
heaviest  penalty. 

CAINE.     Well,  I'll  do  it  to  spite  him! 

[Goes  to  desk  and  writes  for  a  few  moments.  Signs 
paper  and  hands  it  to  WATERS  who  reads  it] 

WATERS.  Now,  get  out  of  this  house  immediately,  and 
I'll  give  you  twenty-four  hours  to  clear  out  of  the  state 
and  hide  your  traces.  At  that  time  I'll  hand  this  to  the 
District  Attorney. 

CAINE.     (From  door.)    Oh  no,  you  won't,  Mr.  Waters. 


THE    CONSPIRATORS  147 

Leavitt  and  I  may  have  been  accomplices  in  the  forgery 
of  these  bonds,  but  Dora  Morris's  was  the  actual  hand 
that  did  the  work,  and  you  can't  send  us  away  without 
sending  her  to  keep  us  company. 

[WATERS  strides  forward  and  grasps  CAINE  by  shoul 
der.  Looks  in  his  eyes  for  a  moment,  turns  him 
quickly  round  and  pushes  him  out.  As  CAINE  exit, 
he  sees  DORA  who  comes  from  behind  curtain  and 
goes  to  WATERS  side.  He  puts  his  arm  lovingly 
round  her.] 
Oh !  it's  all  up  now. 

WATERS.     Well,  sir,  why  don't  you  go? 
CAINE.     I  haven't  got  enough  to  get  me  out  of  town, 
and  I'm  not  a  good  walker. 

WATERS.     (To    DORA.)     What   shall    I    do   with   the 
fellow,  Dora? 

CAINE.     Speak  a  good  word  for  me,  Miss  Morris.     At 
the  best,  my  life  will  be  a  tough  one. 

WATERS.     Come  to  my  office  in  the  morning. 
CAINE.     Thank  you,  sir.     Miss  Morris,  Waters  is  the 
best  fellow  in  the  world.     (WATERS  makes  a  step  towards 
door,  and  CAINE  exit  hurriedly.) 

DORA.     Yes,  the  best  in  the  world,  and  it's  such  a 
beautiful  world  tonight. 


CURTAIN 


THE  SUBTERFUGE 

A   COMEDY  DRAMA 


CAST  OF  CHARACTERS 


[Original  Production. 


HUGH  ALLEN. 


GEORGE  DINS  MERE. 
GREGORY  LIEBER. 

MAJOR  DINSMERE. 
CAPT.  DAVIES. 

ABRAHAM  STEINER. 
JOSEPH  WETHERBY. 

SMITHERS. 
SERGT.  WILLIAMS. 


KID  KALEY. 
POLICEMAN. 
TICKET  AGENT. 
EVELYN  SEACREST. 
MRS.  LIEBER. 
MARJORIE  MELVILLE. 
MARTHA  JACKSON. 


An  ex-soldier,  U.  S.  A.     Now  a 

soldier    of     fortune.      (These 

parts  be  doubled.) 
Insane  son  of  Major  Dinsmere. 
A   lawyer  and  friend  of  Major 

Dinsmere. 
Father  of  George,  and  uncle  and 

guardian  of  Evy. 
Beneficiary  with  Evy  under  their 

aunfs  will.     Ex-captain  U.  S. 
Hebrew  real  estate  speculator. 
A    friend    and    neighbor    of    the 

Dinsmeres. 
An  old  English  soldier,  Major's 

valet. 
Of  the  U.  S.  Infantry,  formerly 

servant   of  Davies,   and   later 

bunky  of  Hugh  in  Philippines. 
A  crook  and  a  Cadet. 


Major's  niece. 


A  friend  of  Evy. 

An  unfortunate  girl.     Afterward 

servant  at  Dinsmere's. 
A  GIRL  IMMIGRANT. 
A  WOMAN  PASSENGER. 
AN  ITALIAN  FRUIT  PEDDLER, 


ACT  I. 

[Scene:  A  corner  of  Grand  Central  Station,  two  double 
benches  in  center — ticket  office  back  center,  mega 
phone  announcer  near  ticket  window — telephone 
booth  upper  right,  large  time-tables  on  wall  back. 

Enter  woman  with  small  bag.  Negro  porter  grabs  it  and 
starts  towards  the  exit — she  following  on  the  run. 
Italian  fruit  peddler  with  basket  enters  from  right- 
policeman  from  left — as  they  pass,  the  policeman 
stops  him  and  picks  out  some  peaches.  JENNIE 
HANSEN  enters  and  sits  down  on  seat  right  center.} 

POLICEMAN.  Say,  what  do  you  mean  by  selling  such 
bum  peaches.  Not  a  word  now.  On  your  way,  and 
don't  let  me  catch  you  around  here  for  a  week. 

[Exit  peddler  and  officer.  Negro  porter  comes  back. 
Enter  fat  woman  with  five  or  six  bundles.  She 
drops  one,  picks  it  up,  and  drops  another.] 

PORTER.     Take  your  parcels,  ma'am,  right  to  the  train. 

WOMAN.  Keep  away,  young  man,  I  don't  need  no 
help.  (She  keeps  dropping  parcels.) 

PORTER.  You  better  let  me  take  them,  ma'am,  you'll 
lose  your  train. 

WOMAN.     How  much  will  you  charge? 

PORTER.  Nothing — only  you  can  give  me  a  present — 
that's  what,  just  a  present. 

WOMAN.     (Suspiciously.)     How  much  of  a  present? 

PORTER.  Oh,  just  a  quarter — a  quarter  would  do 
nicely — although  we  sometimes  gets  fo'  bits — that's  from 
a  real  lady. 

WOMAN.  A  quarter!  No  sir,  get  out  of  my  way. 
(Drops  another  parcel.)  Hey,  young  man,  I'll  pay  you 
a  nickel. 


152  THREE    PLAYS 

PORTER.     I'll    go   you    ma'am,    your   on.     (Takes   up 
parcels.)     And  I  swear  to  goodness  I'll  bore  a  hole  in  that 
nickel  and  wear  it  round  my  neck  next  to  my  heart. 
[Exit.     Enter  OFFICER  and  HUGH.] 

HUGH.  Can  you  tell  me  where  the  next  train  for  Sing 
Sing  starts  from? 

OFFICER.  Sing  Sing — are  you  going  up  without  an 
escort  ? 

HUGH.  (Sarcastically.)  Oh,  kind  sir,  I'm  not  going 
to  the  prison — just  to  visit  a  friend  near  the  river. 

OFFICER.     Near  the  river? 

HUGH.     Yes — if  you  are  up  that  way — drop  in. 

OFFICER.  You're  a  wise  guy  all  right — drop  in — in  the 
river — ha  ha — that's  a  good  one — I  must  spring  that  one 
on  the  Captain. 

HUGH.  Yes — pretty  good,  and  old  enough  to  know 
better, — but  how  about  the  train. 

OFFICER.     (Points  to  window.)     Ask  him. 

HUGH.     When  is  the  next  train  for  Sing  Sing? 

CLERK.     Just  gone —  another  in  a  half  an  hour. 

HUGH.     Well  I  may  as  well  wait  here  where  it's  warm. 

[Sits  down  with  back  to  girl.  Picks  up  paper  and 
begins  to  read.  Enter  a  CADET,  who  sees  the  girl 
and  walks  around  sizing  her  up.  He  sits  near  her 
and  opens  a  paper  and  pretends  to  read.  ] 

CADET.  Say,  Miss,  do  you  know  when  the  next  train 
goes  to  Boston? 

JENNIE.     No,  sir. 

CADET.  Pardon  me,  but  aren't  you  Miss  (reads  name 
on  her  tag)  Hansen? 

JENNIE.     Yes,  sir — that's  my  name. 

CADET.  Glad  to  meet  you.  (Tips  his  hat.)  Gee,  but 
I'm  lucky  to  have  met  you. 

JENNIE.     But  I  don't  understand. 

CADET.  You  don't?  Didn't  you  expect  to  meet  some 
one  here? 

JENNIE.     Yes,  my  cousin  Mary  Hansen  telegraphed  to 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  153 

the  ship  that  she  couldn't  get  down,  and  would  meet  me 
here. 

CADET.  Sure— sure— that's  it— and  didn't  she  tell  you 
about  me? 

JENNIE.     No,  sir,  here's  the  telegram. 

CADET.  (Reads.)  Jennie  Hansen.  'Steerage  S.  S. 
Oceanic — Mistress  sick — can't  meet  boat,  will  meet  you 
at  Grand  Central  Station,  near  ticket  office  at  eight 
o'clock.  Mary  Hansen. 

CADET.  Well,  she  couldn't  come  some  way,  as  the 
missus  got  worse,  so  she  sent  me. 

JENNIE.     Oh  dear,  what  shall  I  do? 

CADET.  That's  all  right,  my  dear — nothing  to  worry 
about — she  asked  me  to  take  you  to  my  mother's  until 
morning,  when  she'll  come  for  you  herself  and  fix  things 
up. 

JENNIE.     (Doubtfully.)     I  don't  know  what  to  do. 

CADET.  Come  on,  now — everything's  all  fixed  nice  and 
comfy. 

[He  picks  up  her  bag  and  she  follows  him  towards 
Left  exit.  Enter  MARTHA  from  Left,  and  meets 
them.  ] 

MARTHA.     Hello,  kid — where  are  you  going? 

CADET.     I'm  busy  now,  Martha — I'll  see  you  later. 

MARTHA.     (To  JENNIE.)     And  where  are  you  going? 

JENNIE.  This  gentleman  is  a  friend  of  my  cousin,  and 
is  taking  me  to  his  mother's  until  morning. 

MARTHA.  (Sarcastically,  to  JENNIE.)  Oh,  I  see.  (To 
CADET.)  Another  victim,  kid — ain't  you  afraid  the 
ground  will  open  and  swallow  you? 

CADET.  Cut  it  out,  Martha,  and  fade  away.  (To 
JENNIE.)  Come,  Miss — it's  getting  late. 

MARTHA.     Come  back,  girl,  I  want  to  talk  to  you. 

CADET.  Never  mind  her,  Miss  Hansen — she's  crazy. 
Mother  will  be  waiting  dinner  for  us. 

MARTHA.     Hear  me,  girl. 

CADET.  (Gets  between  them  and  whispers.)  If  you 
say  another  word,  I'll  smash  you. 


154  THREE    PLAYS 

MARTHA.     Smash  away,  you  cowardly  beast. 

[CADET  draws  his  hand  back  as  if  to  strike.  HUGH 
has  been  watching  and  listening.} 

MARTHA.  I  dare  you — take  a  chance  now  like  a  real 
sport,  and  see  how  quick  you'll  land  in  the  wagon. 

CADET.  (Pleadingly.}  Ah,  Martha,  be  good,  ain't  I 
always  been  on  the  level  with  you?  (Severely.)  Cut  it 
out  and  attend  to  your  own  business. 

MARTHA.     (Bitterly.)     My  business? 

CADET.     Yes — yes — get  on  your  beat — beat  it. 

MARTHA.  Yes,  thanks  to  you,  my  Business  is  here, 
and  my  beat  in  the  street,  and  that's  where  you'll  have 
that  poor  wretch  in  a  few  days. 

CADET.  Oh,  you  make  me  sick  when  you're  senti 
mental. 

MARTHA.  I'll  make  you  sick  tonight  anyhow,  for  you 
must  quit  that  girl — she  looks  virtuous — so  now  let  her 
stay  so. 

CADET.  Virtuous — Rot — there's  no  such  thing — some 
women  think  they're  virtuous,  but  they're  only  cold. 

MARTHA.  You're  the  filthiest  thing  that  crawls  the 
earth — fouler  than  a  vulture  and  more  venomous  than  a 
rattlesnake — more  dangerous  to  society  than  the  plague — 
God  must  indeed  be  good  to  permit  such  as  you  to  exist. 

CADET.  (In  a  harsh  whisper.)  Another  word,  and 
I'll  break  your  face,  you — look  here,  I'll  set  the  gang  on 
you  and  then  you  know  what  will  happen. 

MARTHA.  Go  on  to  your  gang.  Girl,  if  you  value 
your  soul,  don't  go  with  that  man. 

[CADET  strikes  MARTHA.  The  girl  has  shrunk  away 
during  the  argument.  HUGH  jumps  up  and  gives  the 
CADET  a  punch  which  staggers  him  up  to  announcer. 
CADET  draws  knife  and  is  crouching,  when  announcer 
shouts  behind  him.] 

ANNOUNCER.  All  aboard  for  Boston  on  the  Shore 
Line. 

[CADET  is  startled  and  jumps  around.  HUGH  springs 
forward  and  twists  the  knife  out  of  his  hand  and 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  155 

stands  back.  The  CADET  turns  again  and  pulls  a 
revolver,  then  the  ticket  window  is  opened  with  a 
bang.  He  jumps  around  again  with  fists  on  guard 
and  spars  at  an  imaginary  foe  and  HUGH  kicks  the 
gun  out  of  his  hand.  MARTHA  picks  it  up — CADET 
sees  officer  coming  and  exit  left.  A  woman  enters 
from  right  and  runs  to  JENNIE  and  hugs  her.  They 
exit.} 

MARTHA.    Here  comes  the  Cop.    (To  HUGH.)    You're 
all  right,  and  I  wish  you  every  luck. 
OFFICER.     Well,  still  here,  I  see. 
HUGH.     Yes — your  eyesight  is  good  yet. 
OFFICER.     My  eyes  are  all  right,  but  wow — wow — I'm 
suffering  tortures. 

[Enter  BUM  who  approaches  HUGH.] 
BUM.     Can  you  spare  a  dime,  boss — I  haven't  had  a 
thing  to  eat  since  the  day  before  yesterday. 
HUGH.     Nothing  doing. 
BUM.     Well,  then,  a  nickel. 

HUGH.  Not  a  penny  for  you.  Why,  man,  the  flies 
are  getting  a  good  drink  by  just  gliding  across  your  mouth 
and  getting  your  breath. 

BUM.     Well,  then,  spare  the  makings. 
HUGH.     The  what? 

BUM.  The  makings — just  a  little  dust — I  ain't  had  a 
smoke  since  New  Year's. 

HUGH.     I'm  sorry — I   haven't  a   scrap — It's   so   long 
since  I've  had  a  smoke,  I've  forgotten  the  taste  of  a  cigar. 
BUM.     Oh,  gwan,  who  youse  kiddin'.     I  kin  see  you 
had  a  clean  shave  today. 

HUGH.     Yes,  but  what's  that  got  to  do  with  a  smoke? 
BUM.     Who'd  pay  ten  cents  for  a  shave  unless  he'd 
plenty  of  coin? 

HUGH.      (Laughing.)     Well,  I  see  your  point  of  view, 
but  anyhow  I  wasn't  so  extravagant,  as  I  shaved  myself. 
BUM.     Got  a  razor — let's  see  it — I  know  where  I  can 
get  a  quarter  for  it — I'll  show  you  for  a  dime. 
HUGH.     (Laughing.)     No  thanks — get  out. 


156  THREE    PLAYS 

BUM.     Well,  for  a  nickel. 

HUGH.  Go  on,  go  on,  work  on  the  other  side  of  the 
street. 

BUM.     You're  no  sport — I'll  bet  you're  a  fly  cop. 

HUGH.  Go  on  now, — chase  yourself  or  I  may  use  that 
razor  to  take  a  souvenir  off  your  hide.  (Steps  towards 
BUM  who  exit.  HUGH  sits  down  arid  bends  his  head. 
OFFICER  enters  from  Left,  bending  over  in  pain.) 

HUGH.     What's  the  matter?     Booze? 

OFFICER.     Booze?     No — I've  had  nothing  but  a  peach. 

HUGH.     A  peach  eh!     Blonde  or  brunette? 

OFFICER.  You're  a  bum  guesser.  This  was  just  a 
little  green  peach  I  took  away  from  a  dago. 

HUGH.  Green  and  fresh  from  the  country — that's 
what  they  all  say  round  here.  (Policeman  hiccoughs 
several  times.) 

OFFICER.  That's  tough!  Hiccough!  I  got  something 
else  how. 

HUGH.  Oh,  that's  nothing — just  a  spasm  of  the 
diaphragm — 

OFFICER.     Spasm  of  the  what?     (Hiccoughs.) 

HUGH.     Spasm  of  the  di-a-phragm — (Slowly.) 

OFFICER.     What  the — what's  that?     (Hiccough.) 

HUGH.     That's  it. 

OFFICER.     That — why  that's  the  hiccough. 

HUGH.     Yes — that's  the  common  name. 

OFFICER.  Say — are  you  trying  to  kid  me,  young 
feller? 

HUGH.  Kid. you,  officer — oh,  no — I  never  would  do 
anything  like  that. 

OFFICER.     I  believe  you — say  it  again. 

HUGH.     Hiccoughs? 

OFFICER.     No,  the  other  name. 

HUGH.     Oh,  spasm  of  the  diaphragm. 

OFFICER.     Spasm  of  the  doif-um. 

HUGH.     No,  no,  dia-phragm. 

OFFICER.     Di-a-phragm.     Di-a-phragm.     Di-a-phragm. 

HUGH.     What's  the  matter?     Rehearsing? 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  157 

OFFICER.  Say,  I'm  going  to  spring  that  on  the 
Captain.  Dia-  dia-  dia — aw  Hell!  I'll  never  remember 
it. 

HUGH.  Take  another  chance— spasm  of  the  dia-phragm. 

OFFICER.  Di-a-phragm — diaphragm — diaphragm.  (Exit 
thoughtfully.  HUGH  exit.  LT.  LIEBER  and  MAJOR  enter 
•from  Right.) 

LIEBER.  (Looking  at  his  watch.)  Ten  minutes  too 
early,  Dinsmere.  I  telegraphed  my  wife  and  Evy  to  meet 
us  here  at  eight  o'clock  in  time  for  the  show. 

MAJOR.  I'm  almost  afraid  to  meet  the  girl,  Lieber. 
Two  years  ago,  the  last  time  I  visited  her  in  Montreal, 
her  questions  about  George  were  most  embarrassing.  I 
had  to  begin  with  a  lie  and  I  had  to  invent  a  hundred 
others  to  strengthen  the  first. 

LIEBER.  She  is  the  most  charming  girl  I  ever  knew; 
and  her  intellect  is  keen,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  she 
has  spent  her  whole  youth  within  the  walls  of  a  convent, 
and  knows' nothing  of  the  world. 

MAJOR.  I  have  been  hoping  against  hope  that  my  poor 
boy  would  regain  his  reason,  so  that  he  might  marry  her  ; 
and  for  that  reason  I  was  strict  in  my  injunctions  to  the 
Superior  to  allow  Evy  to  have  no  intercourse  socially, 
except  with  the  nuns. 

LIEBER.  She  is  like  a  rose,  ready  to  burst  forth  into 
full  beauty  with  the  first  breath  of  sunshine. 

MAJOR.  Do  you  think  it  would  be  safe  to  marry  her 
to  George,  anyhow? 

LIEBER.  I  wouldn't  risk  it,  my  friend.  The  girl  has 
character,  and  no  ordinary  appeal  would  be  sufficient  to 
make  her  do  something  which  she  thought  was  wrong. 

MAJOR.  Oh,  if  George  would  only  get  better  for  a 
week. 

LIEBER.  Yes,  if  George  were  only  even  moderately 
sane  for  a  week,  we  might  risk  it,  as  nobody  but  ourselves 
and  Smithers  has  knowledge  of  his  insanity. 

MAJOR.     You  forget  Davies — the  scoundrel. 

LIEBER.     Yes,  I  overlooked  him  for  a  moment. 


158  THREE    PLAYS 

MAJOR.  Damn  him.  Look  here,  Lieber.  Have  you 
any  doubt  as  to  who  struck  down  my  boy  on  that  awful 
night  ? 

LIEBER.  Not  a  particle.  Davies  or  an  agent  of  his. 
He  is  guilty  morally  and  legally,  but  we  haven't  a  particle 
of  evidence. 

MAJOR.  I  don't  need  any  more  evidence.  I  can  hardly 
control  myself  from  loading  my  gun  and  going  after  him 
myself. 

LIEBER.  Keep  calm.  Let  us  walk  round  the  block. 
The  ladies  will  not  be  here  for  a  few  minutes  yet,  and  we 
can  talk  this  thing  over. 

[Exit  MAJOR  and  LIEBER.  Enter  EVY  and  MRS. 
LIEBER.  Enter  HUGH  who  passes  them,  starts  and 
stares  at  EVY.  ] 

MRS.  LIEBER.  I'll  just  telephone  to  the  office,  dear,  and 
make  sure  they  left  there.  (Exit  to  booth.) 

HUGH.  (Sits  down,  picks  up  paper  again,  watches 
EVY  from  behind  it.)  Such  beauty. 

[Enter  DAVIES  half  drunk.  He  leers  at  EVY  as  he 
passes.  ] 

DAVIES.  Devilish  pretty  girl,  that,  by  Jove.  Looks  as 
if  she  might  just  have  come  from  a  hot-house.  (He 
turns  back  and  takes  off  his  hat  to  EVY,  saying. )  Pardon 
me,  Miss,  could  you  tell  me  the  way  to  the  Manhattan 
Hotel? 

EVY.  I  am  sorry  I  cannot,  as  I  am  a  stranger  in  New 
York. 

DAVIES.  Oh,  are  you,  though?  Won't  you  let  me 
show  you  a  few  of  the  sights? 

EVY.  (Turning  away.)  No,  thank  you,  I  am  waiting 
for  friends. 

DAVIES.  (Walking  after  her  and  taking  her  arm.) 
Let  me  be  your  friend,  my  dear. 

EVY.  (Pulling  her  arm  away  from  him,  and  turning 
away.)  Go  away,  please.  I  don't  know  you,  and  you 
frighten  me. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  159 

DAVIES.  Don't  be  frightened,  my  dear,  I  wouldn't  hurt 
you.  I  am  a  gentleman. 

EVY.  If  you  are  a  gentleman,  you  will  leave  me  at 
once. 

DAVIES.  Come  and  have  a  glass  of  wine,  my  dear,  and 
then  I'll  leave  you  if  you  wish. 

[HUGH  is  poised  to  interfere,  when  MRS.  LIEBER  enters 
from  booth.] 

HUGH.     The  brute,  he  deserves  a  licking. 

EVY.  Ah,  here  comes  Mrs.  Lieber.  (Runs  towards 
MRS.  LIEBER.  DAVIES  goes  out.) 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Evy,  my  dear,  I'm  so  sorry  you're 
frightened.  I  couldn't  get  anyone  on  the  'phone.  What 
has  happened? 

EVY.  I  was  frightened  by  a  drunken  man,  Mrs.  Lieber  ; 
and  oh,  I'm  so  glad  you  came  out. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Yes,  I  saw  the  end  of  the  incident  as 
I  left  the  booth. 

EVY.  I  have  not  seen  Uncle  George  or  Mr.  Lieber. 
They  left  the  office  an  hour  ago. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Let  us  go  outside.  They  may  be  wait 
ing  for  us  there. 

[Exeunt.  EVY  stands  at  tfie  exit  -for  a  moment,  and 
looks  back  at  HUGH,  who  looks  at  her.  He  then 
pulls  his  belt  in  another  hole,  and  sits  down.] 

HUGH.  Another  day  gone,  and  no  work,  no  hope. 
Another  hole  taken  in  my  belt.  One  quarter  left. 
Shall  I  spend  it  at  the  theatre,  so  that  I  may  drive  this 
despairing  mood  away?  Or  shall  I  dine  like  a  king  to 
night,  and  let  tomorrow  come  what  may?  I  will  dine. 
I  am  hungry — and  yet —  if  I  go  to  the  theater,  I  may  see 
her  face  again.  Let  the  fates  decide.  (Tosses  coin.) 
Heads  for  theater,  tails  for  dinner. 

[Enter  LIEBER.  As  coin  falls,  a  passing  tramp  jumps 
on  it,  and  tries  to  run  away  with  it.  HUGH  grabs 
him  and  a  short  scuffle  ensues,  which  is  interrupted 
by  an  officer.] 

OFFICER.     Here,  what's  the  meaning  of  this  ? 


160  THREE    PLAYS 

TRAMP.  (Whiningly.)  Wasn't  me,  officer,  s'help  me 
The  quarter  is  mine.  It  fell  out  of  my  hand,  and  thi< 
bloke  here  tries  to  take  it  away  from  me. 

OFFICER.  Say,  is  that  your  little  game!  You'll  ge 
thirty  days  on  the  island  for  this. 

HUGH.  It's  ridiculous,  officer.  I  tossed  the  coin  anc 
dropped  it,  and  this  fellow  grabbed  it. 

OFFICER.  Well,  I'll  take  you  both  to  the  station,  anc 
let  the  magistrate  decide.  (Hucn  shrugs  his  shoulders.] 

LIEBER.  (Who  has  entered  and  seen  the  whole  inci 
dent.)  That  one  (Pointing  to  HUGH)  is  telling  the  truth 
I  saw  the  whole  thing. 

OFFICER.  (Touching  his  helmet.)  All  right,  Mr 
Lieber,  I'm  glad  .you  saw  it.  Move  along  there. 

[ LIEBER  takes  MAJOR'S  arm  and  walks  on.  They  lool 
furtively  at  HUGH  who  walks  up  and  leans  on  rail 
ing  near  ticket  window.] 

MAJOR.     (To  LIEBER.)     Marvelous. 

LIEBER.     Startling. 

MAJOR.  (Looking  at  his  watch.)  The  ladies  ough 
to  have  been  here  before  now. 

LIEBER.  We  shall  have  time  to  finish  our  conversation 
let's  walk  round  the  block  again.  (They  go  out  at  Left.] 

[SERGEANT  of  infantry  who  has  seen  the  incident 
touches  HUGH  on  the  shoulder.] 

SERGEANT.  Hullo,  Allen,  old  chap.  You  don't  seen 
to  have  been  in  luck  since  you  left  the  old  regiment. 

HUGH.  (Grasping  his  hand.)  I  am  glad  to  see  you 
Williams.  Yes,  I  have  had  lots  of  luck — bad  luck — anc 
a  man  needs  lots  of  the  other  kind  to  enable  him  to  mak< 
an  honest  living. 

SERGEANT.     I  thought  you'd  gone  back  to  Virginia. 

HUGH.  Virginia — don't  remind  me  of  home,  old  man 
They're  all  dead  and  gone.  I  haven't  a  friend  in  th< 
world — or  a  dollar. 

SERGEANT.     Are  you  broke,  old  boy? 

HUGH.  No,  not  quite.  I've  still  enough  to  buy  the 
drinks,  but  it's  my  last  quarter.  Why,  the  scoundrel  go' 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  161 

away  with  it  after  all.  I  was  so  surprised  when  the  cop 
grabbed  me,  that  I  lost  my  head  and  my  quarter. 

SERGEANT.  Well,  your  luck's  bound  to  turn  now ;  and 
I'm  going  to  be  in  on  the  winning  side.  So  here  you  are, 
old  man.  Let  me  be  your  banker.  It's  only  a  dollar, 
but  tomorrow's  pay  day,  a,nd  I've  got  enough  to  see  me 
home. 

HUGH.  That's  very  good  of  you,  old  chap,  but  I  hate 
to— 

SERGEANT.  Don't  say  a  word  about  it.  When  you 
get  rich,  you  know  where  to  send  it.  Let's  go  and  have 
a  drink,  and  talk  over  old  times. 

[As  they  go  out,  they  pass  the  MAJOR  and  LIEBER,  who 
enter  from  Left.] 

MAJOR.  (Standing,  looking  after  HUGH.)  Why, 
Lieber,  it's  the  most  remarkable  resemblance  I've  ever 
seen.  When  the  officer  grabbed  him,  I  could  hardly  re 
frain  from  rushing  forward  and  calling  him  George. 

LIEBER.  Yes,  he  certainly  bears  a  remarkable  likeness 
to  your  son.  But  there  is  a  difference  which  I  cannot 
fathom  at  the  moment. 

MAJOR.  It's  his  eyes,  man.  It's  the  look  of  intelli 
gence  that  he  has,  and  which  my  poor  boy  lost  that  dread 
ful  night  three  years  ago. 

LIEBER.  Ah,  Dinsmere,  if  it  weren't  for  that,  your 
troubles  would  be  easily  ended. 

MAJOR.  The  worry  and  suspense  will  upset  my  mind, 
Lieber.  I  think  I  will  throw  up  the  sponge,  and  let  that 
rascal  Davies  have  the  girl  and  the  money;  although,  as 
sure  as  I  am  of  my  own  existence,  it  was  he  who  struck 
poor  George  that  fatal  night. 

LIEBER.  Cheer  up,  old  friend ;  we've  still  got  a  month, 
and  something  may  happen  in  that  time. 

MAJOR.  I  can't  see  a  ray  of  light.  The  latest  letter 
from  Smithers  shows  George  to  be  hopelessly  insane; 
and  so  violent  that  he  had  to  be  kept  under  restraint  all 
the  time. 

LIEBER.     You  were  lucky  to  get  him  home  before  he 


162  THREE    PLAYS 

became  violent.  Now  that  he  is  locked  away  in  the  old 
West  Room,  no  one  need  ever  know  that  he  is  not  yet 
travelling  in  Japan  and  the  Philippines. 

MAJOR.  I'm  sure  that  Davies  knows,  although,  of 
course,  he  dare  not  show  any  suspicion,  or  ask  any  ques 
tions,  as  that  would  show  a  guilty  knowledge  of  the  boy's 
condition. 

LIEBER.  Ah,  here  come  the  ladies,  at  last !  Let  us  see 
them  to  their  seats,  and  then  we  can  finish  our  chat 
between  the  acts. 

[Enter  MRS.  LIEBER  and  EVY.] 

MAJOR.  (To  EVY,  kissing  her.)  I  am  heartily  glad 
to  see  you,  my  dear;  although  you  have  grown  to  be 
such  a  woman  I  hardly  know  you. 

EVY.  I  shall  be  glad  to  get  to  the  country,  dear  uncle. 
This  big  city  overwhelms  me,  and  I  was  dreadfully 
frightened  by  a  drunken  man  while  I  was  waiting  for  you. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Yes,  I  went  into  a  telephone  booth,  and 
while  I  was  there,  Evy  got  a  scare. 

LIEBER.  Let  us  go  to  the  theater,  my  dear,  that  will 
be  the  best  cure  for  worries.  Fifteen  minutes  of  the 
show  will  make  you  forget  the  worries  that  exist  in  this 
old  world  of  ours.  (All  exit.} 

DAVIES.  (Half  inebriated,  entering  ^vith  a  shabby 
woman.}  Hang  you,  will  you  go  away,  and  not  worry 
me  any  more. 

MARTHA.  Oh,  Captain  Davies,  I  beg  of  you  in  your 
mother's  name  to  come  with  me  and  see  my  poor  sister. 
She  will  not  be  comforted  by  anyone,  and  cries  out  your 
name  in  her  delirium. 

DAVIES.  Will  you  go  away?  I  will  come  and  see  her 
tomorrow  or  the  next  day. 

MARTHA.     She  may  be  dead  then. 

DAVIES.     I  hope  so. 

MARTHA.  You  wretch.  You  will  be  lying  at  death's 
door  yet,  in  torments  as  you  have  brought  that  innocent 
girl.  She  lies  in  the  agony  of  childbirth,  even  now  full  of 
faith  and  love  for  you,  who  have  blighted  her  young  life. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  163 

DAVIES.  Damn  you,  will  you  shut  up !  You  will  call 
a  crowd  around  us  with  your  cursed  noise. 

MARTHA.  Let  them  come.  I  will  proclaim  my  sister's 
sorrow  and  your  shame  from  the  housetops,  and  I  will 
follow  you  wherever  you  go,  until  I  shame  you  into  doin* 
what's  right  by  her. 

DAVIES.  (To  OFFICER  who  has  entered  Left.)  Officer, 
will  you  send  that  woman  away.  She  is  annoying  me  by 
begging.  (Exit.) 

OFFICER.  (Pushing  MARTHA.)  Get  along,  now,  or 
I'll  take  you  to  the  station. 

[Enter  SMITHERS.     He  catches  her  as  she  is  about  to 
fall] 

SMITHERS.  Why,  hullo,  Martha,  my  girl,  what  brings 
you  here?  (To  OFFICER.)  And  what  do  you  mean  by 
pushing  a  decent  girl  along  like  that? 

OFFICER.  If  you  know  her,  you'd  better  see  her  home, 
because  if  I  see  her  in  the  street  again  tonight,  I'll  run 
her  in. 

SMITHERS.  Run  her  in,  will  yer.  I'd  like  to  see  yer. 
Why,  what  has  she  been  a-doin'  of? 

OFFICER.  She's  been  begging.  A  man  made  a  com 
plaint  of  her. 

SMITHERS.  I  don't  believe  it.  'Taint  true,  Martha,  is 
it?  Say  it  ain't,  and  I'll  cop  the  cop  one  on  the  blooming 
eye. 

MARTHA.  'Taint  true,  Bill.  But  take  me  away,  please, 
for  I'm  afraid  I'll  fall  down  in  the  street. 

[They  all  go  out.     Enter  MAJOR  and  LIEBER.] 

MAJOR.  I  feel  mean  about  sending  them  to  the  theater 
alone. 

LIEBER.  Well,  old  friend,  we  can  join  them  in  a  few 
minutes,  and  I  couldn't  sit  still  with  this  business  of  yours 
on  my  mind.  And,  besides,  I  have  an  idea  that  may 
help  us. 

MAJOR.  As  I  understand  the  will,  Evy  must  be  mar 
ried  before  her  twenty-first  birthday  to  inherit  the  for 
tune. 


1 64  THREE    PLAYS 

LIEBER.  Yes,  and  if  she  marries  your  son  George,  you 
get  a  legacy  of  $200,000,  which  will  enable  you  to  clean 
up  the  encumbrance  on  the  place,  and  realize  your 
holdings. 

MAJOR.  Yes,  and  if  she  should  marry  Davies,  we 
should  lose  everything. 

LIEBER.    Not  much  consolation  to  that,  is  there,  Major? 

MAJOR.  No,  indeed;  but  what  if  she  should  marry  a 
stranger  ? 

LIEBER.  In  that  case  Davies  would  get  everything, 
unless  he  had  been  married  himself. 

MAJOR.  I  wish  we  could  persuade  her  to  marry 
George.  They  need  never  live  together. 

LIEBER.  You  don't  know  the  girl,  Major.  She  is  far 
too  high-spirited  and  romantic,  in  spite  of  her  youth. 
And,  besides,  the  marriage  would  be  utterly  void  and 
worthless. 

MAJOR.  I  can  easily  understand  how  desperate  crimi 
nals  are  made,  Lieber.  I  feel  in  a  mood  to  perpetrate 
almost  any  crime  to  thwart  that  rascal,  and  save  my 
property  at  the  same  time.  But  you  said  you  have  some 
new  plan. 

LIEBER.  I  have  an  idea,  but  it  is  dangerous ;  and  might 
cost  us  both  our  liberty.  (Enter  ABRAHAM.) 

ABRAHAM.  (Interrupting.}  Good  evening,  Major. 
How  do  you  do,  Mr.  Lieber. 

MAJOR.     Hullo,  Abraham.     How  are  you? 

ABRAHAM.  Very  well,  Major,  thank  you.  I'm  glad 
to  see  you. 

MAJOR.     I'm  hanged  if  I'm  glad  to  see  you. 

ABRAHAM.  Veil  you  vere  vonce,  and  you  may  be 
again.  When  are  you  going  to  pay  me  this  note. 

LIEBER.  I  didn't  know  you  owed  this  fellow  anything 
beside  that  mortgage. 

ABRAHAM.  Ah,  Mr.  Lieber,  it's  only  a  thousand 
dollars. 

MAJOR.  Oh,  I  was  five  hundred  dollars  short  when 
the  interest  was  due  on  that  wretched  mortgage,  and  he 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  165 

jewed  me  out  of  a  note  for  a  thousand  dollars.  But  it 
is  not  due  for  a  few  weeks  yet. 

ABRAHAM.  Oh  yes,  ain't  it,  Major  Dinsmere.  It  were 
due  the  day  before  yesterday,  and  it  must  be  paid,  or  I 
will  sue  on  it  right  away. 

MAJOR.     I  can't  pay  you  now. 

ABRAHAM.  I  need  the  money/  Why  can't  you  pay  me 
something  on  account? 

MAJOR.  I  can't  do  it.  I  haven't  a  dollar  to  spare 
just  now. 

ABRAHAM.  Major,  your  mortgage  is  due  in  four 
months  from  now.  How  are  you  going  to  pay  me  the 
fifty  thousand  dollars? 

MAJOR.  Go  away,  man.  Time  enough  to  talk  about 
that  when  it  is  due. 

ABRAHAM.     Well,  this  here  note  is  due.     Pay  me  that. 

LIEBER.  Bring  it  to  my  office  in  the  morning,  and  I 
will  pay  it. 

ABRAHAM.  (To  LIEBER.)  Oh,  thank  you,  Mr.  Lieber. 
(Aside.)  Oh,  damn  you,  Mr.  Lieber.  (To,  MAJOR.) 
What  would  you  say  if  I  were  to  give  you  five  thousand 
for  your  equity  above  the  mortgage  ?  It  would  be  a  pity 
to  foreclose,  as  it  would  spoil  the  market  value  of  the 
place. 

MAJOR.  Ha,  ha,  hear  the  fellow.  You  are  joking, 
Abraham.  The  place  has  been  in  my  family  for  two 
hundred  years,  and  I  would  rather  lose  my  life,  than  that 
it  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  such  as  you. 

ABRAHAM.  Yes,  but  times  are  hard,  and  money  tight, 
Major  Dinsmere;  and  it  wouldn't  bring  more  than  that  at 
auction  just  now. 

MAJOR.  Go  away,  man.  Your  mortgage  will  be  paid 
when  the  time  comes. 

ABRAHAM.  (As  he  exit.)  Ah,  veil,  if  it  ain't,  I  will 
foreclose,  and  get  the  property  any  vay.  But  it's  a  pity. 
Vill  you  take  seventy-five  thousand? 

MAJOR.  (Walking  toward  Jew  with  uplifted  stick.) 
Go  away,  damn  you. 


166  THREE    PLAYS 

ABRAHAM.  Ah,  very  veil.  But  my  time  is  coming. 
(Exit.) 

MAJOR.  (Desperately.)  Lieber,  you  must  think  of 
some  method  of  aranging  this  marriage.  I  would  do 
anything  short  of  murder  to  save  the  old  place. 

LIEBER.  Here  he  comes  again.  By  heavens,  I  feel 
like  taking  the  risk.  (Enter  HUGH.) 

MAJOR.     What  risk — explain? 

LIEBER.  (To  HUGH.)  Come  here,  my  man.  You 
look  like  an  intelligent  fellow.  Are  you  employed. 

HUGH.     No,  sir — I  wish  I  were. 

LIEBER.  What's  your  name,  and  where  do  you  hail 
from? 

HUGH.  Hugh  Allen  of  Virginia.  The  last  and  poor 
est  of  my  race. 

LIEBER.     What  can  you  do?     Have  you  a  trade? 

HUGH.  Trade?  Yes,  the  trade  of  a  soldier.  But 
that's  no  good  except  in  times  of  war. 

LIEBER.     You  seem  to  be  well  educated. 

HUGH.  Yes.  I  am  a  college  graduate,  and  held  the 
rank  of  Sergeant-Major  in  the  army. 

MAJOR.  (Aside  to  LIEBER.)  By  Geoffry,  the  resem 
blance  is  startling.  I  never  knew  of  such  a  coincidence. 
A  little  thinner  and  more  upright,  but  with  a  few  weeks 
of  coaching,  and  a  well-cut  suit  of  clothes,  his  own 
mother,  were  she  alive,  wouldn't  know  the  difference. 

HUGH.  I  would  make  a  good  clerk,  sir,  and  I  have 
had  some  experience  in  that  direction.  In  fact,  I  have 
had  three  months'  experience  as  a  law  clerk,  since  I  left 
the  army. 

LIEBER.  Law  clerk,  eh?  I  am  a  lawyer,  and  I  have 
room  for  another  clerk. 

HUGH.     I  thought  you  were,  sir. 

MAJOR.  (To  LIEBER.)  His  powers  of  observation 
are  good. 

LIEBER.  Have  you  any  references?  Why  did  you 
leave  your  place  as  a  law  clerk  ? 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  167 

HUGH.  The  head  clerk  insulted  me  without  reason, 
and — 

[Clenches  his  fist,  and  makes  motion  of  striking.] 

MAJOR.  (Aside.)  He's  got  backbone  too;  oh, 
George,  my  boy,  wouldn't  I  be  proud  and  happy  if  you 
were  only  like  him. 

HUGH.  I  left  the  army  six  months  ago,  and  here  is  my 
discharge. 

LIEBER.  (Reading.)  Hm!  character  exemplary. 
Have  you  any  other  employment? 

HUGH.  No,  I  have  had  nothing  to  do  for  nearly  three 
months  past. 

LIEBER.  Suppose  the  employment  I  were  to  offer  you 
was  something  different  from  a  clerkship — something 
adventurous — dangerous  ? 

HUGH.  Danger,  adventure,  nothing  would  suit  me 
better. 

MAJOR.  But  would  you  break  the  law  for  a  considera 
tion  ? 

HUGH.  It  depends  upon  that  law.  Some  laws  are 
morally  good — some  bad.  It  is  a  virtue  to  break  some 
of  them. 

LIEBER.  Hold  on,  young  man.  The  laws  are  made  by 
the  majority  in  their  wisdom. 

HUGH.  Yes,  but  if  the  virtuous  were  in  a  majority 
the  rest  of  us  would  have  a  hell  of  a  time. 

LIEBER.     Quite  a  philosopher,  I  see. 

MAJOR.  But  suppose  it  were  something  now,  ahem — 
not  exactly — ahem — what  might  be  considered  honorable  ? 

LIEBER.  (Crossing  between  MAJOR  and  HUGH.) 
Hold  on,  my  friend;  I'll  do  the  interrogating. 

HUGH.  Honor  is  for  the  rich,  and  honesty  for  the 
well-to-do.  I  pawned  the  only  things  in  the  world  I 
valued — my  mother's  wedding-ring  for  a  few  cents  yes 
terday.  I  have  been  honorable  up  to  today,  and  I  have 
been  hungry  and  thirsty,  but  the  day  after  tomorrow  I 
may  be  starving.  I  have  starved  and  suffered  in  Cuba 
and  the  Philippines  without  a  murmur,  but  it  would  take 


i68  THREE    PLAYS 

a  more  complacent  philosopher  that  me  to  starve  in  the 
midst  of  plenty.  I  am  an  honest  man  tonight,  but  in  a 
week — who  can  tell — 

LIEBER.  By  Jove,  he's  the  man  for  my  money.  (To 
HUGH.)  Here  are  a  couple  of  birds  that  will  grant  some 
of  your  most  urgent  demands.  (Gives  him  two  ten-dollar 
gold-pieces.} 

HUGH.  All  money  talks,  but  the  eagle  screams 
(Jingles  the  coins.}  and  sings  the  sweetest  song  on  earth 
when  you're  broke. 

LIEBER.  Wait  ten  minutes,  and  I  think  I  will  be  able 
to  give  you  employment. 

[MAJOR  and  LIEBER  walk  aside.     HUGH  looks  at  mo 
ney,  rattles  it,  etc.     Enter  WILLIAMS  from  Left.] 

HUGH.  You're  the  one  man  in  New  York  I'm  glad 
to  meet.  Open  your  hand,  old  man,  and  take  this. 
(Claps  one  of  the  eagles  into  his  hands.} 

SERGEANT.  (Astonished.}  What!  A  ten-dollar 
piece?  Have  you  found  a  gold  mine  since  I  last  saw  you? 

HUGH.  No,  I  have  just  met  a  rich  relative.  Come 
along,  and  have  a  drink,  my  friend,  and  we'll  empty 
another  glass  to  the  old  regiment. 

[They  go  out.     Enter  MAJOR  and  LIEBER.] 

MAJOR.  With  your  brains,  and  your  knowledge  of  the 
law,  Lieber,  I  am  sure  it  would  be  perfectly  safe. 

LIEBER.  It's  just  my  knowledge  of  the  law  that  makes 
me  tremble  for  the  consequence  of  failure.  It  would  be 
a  great  game,  Major;  but  the  stake  is  too  heavy  for  me. 
After  all  I  have  no  personal,  interest  in  the  matter,  except 
as  your  friend. 

MAJOR.  Not  only  friendship,  Lieber,  but  half  of  my 
share  is  yours  if  we  win. 

[Enter  DAVIES,  still  showing  effects  of  drink.] 

DAVIES.     Hullo,  Major. 

MAJOR.  How-do-you-do,  Davies.  You  know  Mr. 
Gregory  Lieber,  don't  you? 

DAVIES.  (Staring  LIEBER  from  head  to  foot.}  Yes, 
I  think  I  have  seen  him  somewhere;  but  I  never  allow 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  169 

myself  to  be  introduced  to  lawyers.     All  damned  vam 
pires  ;  they  bleed  you,  you  know. 

LIEBER.  Not  such  vampires  as  men  of  your  cloth  and 
breed,  sir;  and  I  hope  I'll  see  the  day  when  you'll  need 
some  lawyer  to  save  your  wretched  neck  from  the  gallows. 
(Enter  HUGH,  who  walks  up  and  studies  timetable.) 

DAVIES.     Oh,  damnation,  don't  bother.     Have  a  smoke. 

[  Offers  LIEBER  a  cigar.  The  latter  dashes  it  from  his 
hand,  and  walks  up  stage  to  HUGH.  They  talk  and 
exit  together.] 

DAVIES.  What's  the  fellow  angry  about?  I  said 
nothing  to  insult  him. 

MAJOR.     Oh  no !  you're  a  perfect  gentleman. 

DAVIES.  Yes,  I'm  always  a  perfect  gentleman.  How's 
George,  Major?  Still  in  the  Holy  Land?  Holy  fellow, 
George.  He's  got  a  hole  in  his  head,  hasn't  he? 

MAJOR.     Yes  scoundrel,  he  has,  thanks  to  you. 

DAVIES.  Don't  get  mad,  Major.  Say,  when  are  you 
going  to  bring  back  my  wife  from  Montreal? 

MAJOR.  (With  interest.)  Your  wife,  Davies!  I 
didn't  know  you  were  married. 

DAVIES.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  good  joke,  old  man.  You  know 
who  I  mean.  Evy  Seacrest,  whom  my  grand-aunt  picked 
out  for  me.  Pretty  good  of  her,  wasn't  it? 

MAJOR.  (With  suppressed  anger.)  But  you  haven't 
got  her  yet,  Davies,  and  you  may  never  get  her.  You- 
know  that  it  was  her  grand-aunt's  wish  that  she  should 
make  a  choice  between  you  and  George,  and  he  will  be 
home  in  a  few  weeks  to  ask  her  to  be  his  bride. 
^  DAVIES.  Ha,  ha,  ha !  that's  a  pretty  good  joke. 
George  can't  marry  anybody.  George  has  wheels — crazy. 

MAJOR.  That's  a  strange  idea  to  have,  Davies.  What 
made  you  think  so? 

DAVIES.  You  can't  fool  me,  Major.  I  know  all  about 
it.  George  has  been  out  of  the  running  these  three  years. 

MAJOR.     You  know  that,  do  you? 

DAVIES.     Yes,  I  know,  Major— at  least  I  know  he  was 


i;o  THREE    PLAYS 

off  his  head  three  years  ago,  and  I  have  no  proof  of  his 
recovery. 

MAJOR.  (Angrily.)  Thanks  to  you,  damn  you,  my 
boy  was  nearly  killed — but  he  recovered. 

DAVIES.  All  rot,  old  man.  I  had  nothing  to  do  with  it. 
I  was  a  hundred  miles  away  when  it  was  done. 

MAJOR.  If  you  were,  you  were  well  served  in  your 
fiendish  work. 

DAVIES.  All  nonsense,  Major.  You  can't  prove  I  had 
anything  to  do  with  it,  but  it  means  much  to  me  whether 
he's  sane  or  insane  now,  and  I  believe  he  is  still  a  lunatic. 

MAJOR.  (Clenching  his  hands,  and  showing  signs  of 
trying  to  keep  calm.)  Well,  Davies,  you're  mistaken. 
He's  as  sane  as  you  are.  But  even  if  he  shouldn't  marry 
Evy,  she  may  marry  someone  else — or — she  may  not 
marry  at  all. 

DAVIES.  Hurrah,  all  the  better,  all  the  better.  Then 
I'll  get  the  old  girl's  cash.  You  can  have  the  kid  yourself, 
Dinsmere,  and  I'll  give  you  a  thousand  dollars  for  a 
wedding  present  to  buy  sticking  plaster  for  George's  sore 
head. 

[MAJOR  strikes  DAVIES,  and  the  latter  grasps  the 
MAJOR  and  is  choking  him  when  HUGH  and  LIEBER 
enter.  HUGH  runs  forward  and,  catching  DAVIES, 
hurls  him  aside.  DAVIES  picks  himself  up  and  runs 
toward  MAJOR,  but  HUGH  stands  between  them.} 

DAVIES.  (To  HUGH.)  Great  Caesar,  who  are  you? 
^  LIEBER.  ( Triumphantly. )  Have  you  forgotten 
George  Dinsmere? 

CURTAIN 


THE    SUBTERFUGE 


ACT  II. 

[Scene:  Drawing-room  at  DINSMERE'S  house.  MRS. 
LIEBER  sitting  on  low  chair,  embroidering.  EVY 
jumps  up,  runs  to  window,  peers  out.} 

EVY.     I  think  I  hear  the  wheels  on  the  gravel. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Curb  your  impatience,  my  dear.  It  is 
not  yet  four  o'clock,  and  the  train  does  not  arrive  at  the 
station  till  three-fifty — so  they  would  not  have  time  to 
get  here  yet. 

EVY.  Oh,  I  am  just  dying  to  see  George,  and  to  hear 
all  about  his  travels.  You  remember  it's  over  four  years 
since  I  last  saw  him. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Yes,  I  remember  the  last  time  he  was 
here  before  his  injury,  poor  fellow. 

EVY.  Oh,  yes,  wasn't  it  dreadful.  I  remember  crying 
and  crying  until  my  eyes  were  sore,  and  when  he  was 
brought  back  here,  I  shall  never  forget  the  dreadful  cries 
he  uttered  in  his  delirium. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Yes,  it  was  very  sad  for  my  old  friend, 
Major  Dinsmere,  to  have  his  only  boy  brought  back  like 
that.  I  felt  as  sad  as  I  would  over  my  own  boy. 

EVY.     It  must  have  nearly  killed  Uncle  George. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Yes  indeed.  We  thought  that  for  a  few 
days  his  mind  would  be  unbalanced  too ;  and  no  wonder, 
when  he  had  built  such  hopes  on  his  only  boy.  And,  of 
course  you  know,  my  dear,  that  not  only  was  the  Major's 
love  wounded,  but  his  fortune  depended  on  George  being 
able  to  marry  you. 

EVY.  Yes,  yes,  I  know;  that  dreadful  will.  I  hate 
to  think  of  it.  Sometimes,  do  you  know,  it  almost  makes 
me  dislike  George. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Oh,  nonsense,  my  dear;  such  arrange 
ments  are  of  every-day  occurence,  and  it  would  be  terrible 


172  THREE    PLAYS 

if  the  Major  were  to  lose  this  beautiful  old  place  that  has 
been  in  his  family  for  a  dozen  generations. 

EVY.  Yes,  but  one  detests  feeling  like  being  bargained 
for  and  sold  in  the  market. 

MRS.  LIBBER.  Yes,  youth  and  love  go  hand  in  hand. 
But  your  material  welfare,  as  well  as  your  uncle's  and 
George's,  depends  upon  this  marriage. 

EVY.  Well,  I'm  heartily  glad  I  didn't  know  anything 
about  this  wretched  will  until  a  few  days  ago,  or  I  am 
sure  I  would  have  hated  George.  As  it  is,  I  have  always 
thought  of  him  as  my  dear  play-fellow  and  chum;  and 
besides,  you  know,  Mrs.  Lieber,  he  is  the  only  young  man 
I  have  ever  known  intimately,  for  since  I  have  been  in  the 
convent,  I  have  hardly  seen  a  man. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  Well  you'll  see  lots  of  society  after  your 
marriage,  my  dear ;  and  I  shall  be  glad  to  see  the  old  house 
lighted  up  again,  and  full  of  gaiety  as  it  used  to  be  years 
ago. 

EVY.  Oh,  I  have  been  so  afraid  since  I  heard  about 
this  wretched  will,  that  I  shall  not  like  George  as  well 
as  I  used  to.  If  only  I  had  not  heard  about  it,  I  should 
be  happy  at  the  thought  of  meeting  my  old  chum. 
(Rushes  to  window.)  Ah,  there  it  is  now.  Yes,  there 
they  are  getting  out.  Yes,  there's  George.  I  would 
know  him  among  a  thousand  people.  And  isn't  he  tall 
and  handsome ! 

[Runs  to  mirror  and  tidies  her  hair  and  dress.  ] 

EVY.  Oh,  I  am  so  nervous.  Mrs.  Lieber,  do  I  look 
pale? 

MRS.  LIEBER.  (Laughing.)  Not  at  all,  dear;  you 
look  just  charming. 

[Enter  MAJOR  and  HUGH,  the  latter  dressed  in  fash 
ionable  attire,  but  appearently  bashful  and  ill  at  ease. 
HUGH  recognizes  EVY  as  the  girl  he  had  seen  in  the 
station,  and  shows  it  by  his  manner.] 

HUGH.  (Aside.)  It's  the  angel  I  saw  in  the  Grand 
Central  Station,  the  girl  of  my  dreams. 

[EvY  kisses  the  MAJOR,  and  rushes  gushingly  to  HUGH. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  173 

The  latter  very   embarrassed,   takes  her  hand  and 
shakes  it  extravagantly.     EVY  appears  doubtful.} 

LIEBER.  ( Whispering  in  HUGH'S  ear. )  Call  her  Evy ; 
and  kiss  her,  man ;  kiss  her. 

[HUGH  takes  EVY  in  his  arms,  and  gives  her  a  hug  that 
deprives  her  of  her  breath.  LIEBER  pushes  in  be 
tween  them  and  shaking  EVY'S  hand,  talks  to  her, 
thus  distracting  her  attention  from  HUGH'S  awk 
wardness.  ] 

MRS.  LIEBER.  I'm  so  pleased  to  see  you  again,  George. 
You're  looking  in  splendid  condition  after  your  long  tour. 
Where  have  you  been  the  last  year? 

HUGH.     Boston  and  New  York. 

MRS.  LIEBER.     Boston? 

MAJOR.  Hem,  Mrs.  Lieber  said  the  last  year,  not  the 
last  week,  George.  The  last  few  letters  I  had  from  you 
were  from  Manila. 

HUGH.     Oh  yes,  of  course,  I  was  exploring  the  islands. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  What  struck  you  as  most  remarkable 
about  the  Philippines,  George? 

HUGH.  Well,  I  think  the  grit  and  fighting  qualities  of 
the  fuzzy-wuzzies. 

EVY.     Fuzzies,  George,  what  are  those? 

HUGH.  Oh,  that's  one  of  the  names  we  fellows  have 
for  the  Moros. 

EVY.  We  fellows?  What  are  you  talking  about, 
George  ? 

LIEBER.  George  was  a  newspaper  correspondent  for 
a  while,  you  know,  and  he  lived  so  much  with  the  soldiers, 
that  he  almost  came  to  consider  himself  one. 

EVY.  How  lovely  and  exciting  it  must  have  been! 
And  I  suppose  you  saw  lots  of  shots  fired,  and  cannons 
roaring,  and  Sulus  and  Moros  and  that  kind  of  thing. 

HUGH.  Oh,  yes,  I  was  in  command  of  a  machine  gun 
for  several  months,  and  on  one  occasion  the  cartridge 
jammed,  and  the  devils  got  right  on  top  of  us. 

EVY.     Awful. 

MRS.  LIEBER.     How  dreadful;  were  you  hurt? 


174  THREE    PLAYS 

MAJOR.  (Aside  to  LIEBER.)  He's  all  right  on  that 
tack,  so  we  had  better  let  him  stay  there  until  we  can 
get  him  out  of  the  room  for  a  little  while. 

LIEBER.    Devilish  close,  Major.    Too  close  for  comfort. 

EVY.     (Excitedly.)     And  were  you  wounded,  George ? 

HUGH.  Just  a  clip  under  the  rib  from  a  spear. 
Another  big  devil  had  a  ten- foot  spear  against  my  neck, 
when  Sergeant  McCarthy  shouted  "Duck  your  head, 
Allen/'  and  down  I  went,  and  the  spear  only  parted  my 
hair  instead  of  my  spinal  column. 

EVY.     Why  did  he  call  you  Allen? 

[MAJOR  grips  LIEBER' s  arm  in  alarm.] 

HUGH.  Oh,  well,  you  know,  that — that — that's  a  nick 
name.  We  all  had  nicknames. 

LIEBER.  (To  MAJOR.)  Phew,  I  thought  it  was  all 
over. 

EVY.     How  funny!     Is  that  an  army  custom? 

HUGH.  Oh,  yes,  I  got  so  used  to  being  called  Allen, 
that  I  would  answer  to  it  as  readily  as  I  would  to  my 
own  name.  (To  LIEBER  aside.)  By  Jove,  I'd  never  do 
it,  if  she  wasn't  in  the  game;  and  isn't  she  the  gay  de 
ceiver  !  She  sure  must  be  a  born  actress. 
^  MRS.  LIEBER.  But  where  did  you  pick  up  that  accent, 
George  ? 

HUGH.     Oh!     I  came  by  it  honestly  enough. 

EVY.     It  sounds  like  a  Southern  accent. 

HUGH.     That's  what  it  is— the  real  thing. 

MAJOR.  (Hurriedly.)  George  has  been  in  the  South, 
you  know,  recently.  He  has  been  studying  the  agricul 
tural  question  amongst  the  Virginian  mountaineers. 

HUGH.     That's  what  I've  been  doing. 

LIEBER.  And  he  was  quartered  with  a  Southern  regi 
ment  for  several  months  in  Cuba. 

HUGH.     That's  true  enough,  anyhow. 

EVY.  I  think  it's  a  very  nice  accent;  I  think  I  shall 
try  to  acquire  it. 

HUGH.     And  happy  I'll  be  to  teach  you.     And  so  there 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  175 

may  be  a  fair  exchange,  I'll  take  lessons  from  your  sweet 
self  to  get  back  the  accent  I  have  lost. 

EVY.     It's  a  bargain. 

HUGH.     Sealed  by  a — 

EVY.     Handshake. 

HUGH.  (To  LIEBER.)  I  thought  I  was  getting 
another  sweet  kiss  coming  to  me. 

LIEBER.     Cut  them  out!     They're  not  in  the  contract. 

HUGH.  No,  but  if  they  come  my  way  I  can't  dodge 
them.  I  must  play  the  part,  you  know. 

MRS.  LIEBER.  You  must  be  fatigued  after  your  jour 
ney,  so  I  will  go  to  the  dining  room  and  order  tea.  You 
will  help  me,  Evy? 

EVY.  Certainly,  Mrs.  Lieber.  (They  go  out  with 
LIEBER.  ) 

MAJOR.  Now,  my  boy,  you  must  forget  about  Allen 
and  the  army,  once  for  all.  I  have  spent  three  weeks 
with  you  coaching  about  your  family  history,  and  helping 
you  to  forget  your  past  identity,  and  you  must  be  a  fool 
to  make  those  mistakes. 

HUGH.  It  can't  matter  very  much  with  the  members 
of  the  family,  when  they  know  all  about  it,  and  that  I 
am  only  acting. 

MAJOR.  Once  again,  let  me  impress  upon  you,  that 
you  must  keep  up  your  acting  even  with  me. 

HUGH.  Oh,  it's  easy  enough  with  you  and  the  lawyer, 
but  the  little  girl  and  her  sweet  innocence  and  beautiful 
eyes  disarmed  me  entirely,  and  made  me  feel  what  a 
hypocrite  I  am. 

MAJOR.  Hypocrite  be  dashed,  man.  Evy  knows  as 
well  as  I  do  that  you  are  acting  a  part.  She  is  playing 
a  part  herself;  and  her  whole  future  and  fortune  depend 
on  how  well  she  and  you  act  it. 

HUGH.  I  cannot  believe  she  is  acting  a  part.  She 
looks  so  sweet  and  innocent. 

MAJOR.  Hang  sentiment!  remember  this  is  purely  a 
matter  of  business. 

HUGH.     Five  thousand  dollars'  worth  of  business.     It 


176  THREE    PLAYS 

is  a  colossal  fortune  to  me.  I'll  feel  as  rich  as  Croesus, 
and  I  need  the  money. 

MAJOR.  Yes,  and  if  you  play  your  part  well,  and  make 
no  mistakes,  I'll  give  you  a  letter  of  credit  payable  in 
San  Francisco  for  five  thousand  more.  That's  more  than 
you  ever  had  in  your  life  before,  and  more  than  you  ever 
expected  to  have,  and  you  ought  to  work  carefully  and 
hard  to  get  it. 

HUGH.  Oh,  I'll  feel  rich  enough  to  pay  off  the  national 
debt  when  I  get  it;  and  it  ought  to  be  easy  to  play  the 
game  when  everybody's  in  it. 

MAJOR.  Forget  your  past  existence,  and  try  to  live  and 
think  as  George  Dinsmere.  You  must  call  me  father, 
and  speak  to  Evy  as  you  would  had  you  known  her  from 
childhood.  The  servants  are  all  new  with  the  exception 
of  Smithers,  who  is  in  the  game.  But  whether  people 
know  the  game  or  not,  you  must  expect  to  be  treated  by 
all  as  George  Dinsmere. 

HUGH.     Well,  it  oughtn't  to  be  hard  for  a  few  weeks. 

MAJOR.  You  mus.t  keep  eternally  on  your  guard,  and 
let  nothing  surprise  you,  until  after  you  are  married  and 
out  of  New  York  forever. 

HUGH.     It's  the  marriage  that  knocks  me  out. 

MAJOR.  Take  that  as  it  comes,  like  everything.  But 
above  all,  keep  on  your  guard  against  Davies.  (Enter 
EVY.) 

EVY.     Tea  is  ready  now,  Uncle.     Come  along,  George. 

MAJOR.  I  don't  care  for  any  tea,  this  afternoon. 
(Exit.) 

HUGH.  Well,  now,  I'd  rather  have  a  chat  with  your 
sweet  self  than  the  best  cup  of  tea  ever  brewed. 

EVY.  How  nice  of  you  to  say  that,  George;  and  I'm 
simply  dying  to  have  a  chat  with  you  about  the  fuzzy- 
wuzzies  and  Filipinos,  and  all  the  things  you  have  seen 
on  your  travels. 

HUGH.     My,  my,  but  I  can  hardly  believe  it. 

EVY.     Believe  what? 

HUGH.     That  you're  such  a  good  actress. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  177 

EVY.    I'm  not  a  good  actress ;  and  why  do  you  say  that  ? 

HUGH.  Never  mind — but  you  certainly  have  promi 
sing  talent. 

EVY.  All  our  friends  have  been  asking  when  you  were 
expected  back.  But  you  had  better  come  along  now,  and 
have  a  cup  of  tea. 

[As  they  leave  the  room,  the  MAJOR  enters.] 

MAJOR.  When  you  have  shown  George  into  the  dining 
room,  come  back,  Evy.  I  want  to  have  a  few  words 
with  you. 

[EvY  and  HUGH  go  out.     Enter  LIEBER.] 

LIEBER.  We  must  win,  man,  we  can't  lose  unless  some 
unforeseen  accident  happens.  The  resemblance  is  marv 
elous,  and  the  fellow  has  both  the  wit  and  intelligence  to 
pull  him  through. 

MAJOR.  Yes,  but  during  the  past  few  weeks  while  I 
have  been  coaching  him,  I  have  found  that  he  is  rather 
squeamish  on  certain  points  of  honor,  and  his  conscience 
troubles  him  occasionally  with  the  fact  that  someone  is 
being  deceived  and  wronged  in  this  matter. 

LIEBER.     He  doesn't  seem  to  mind  skinning  Davies? 

MAJOR.  Funnily  enough,  that's  one  of  his  points  of 
honor. 

LIEBER.  Yes,  you  worked  the  story  of  the  distressed 
maiden  so  well  that  he  thinks  that  in  robbing  Davies,  he 
is  only  preventing  that  blackguard  from  robbing  Evy. 

MAJOR.  Yes,  that  is  the  point  I  am  afraid  of.  If 
these  two  are  together  many  days,  he  will  discover  that 
Evy  knows  nothing  about  this  plot  of  ours,  and  thinks  he 
is  George. 

LIEBER.  Well,  you  can't  prevent  them  from  being  to 
gether  a  lot. 

MAJOR.  That  would  be  impossible  and  unwise ;  but  I 
must  invent  a  yarn  for  Evy  that  will  prevent  her  from 
suspecting  anything.  And  I  think  we  had  better  rush 
these  marriage  preparations,  and  have  the  wedding  take 
place  in  a  few  days. 

LIEBER.     I'm  afraid  any  undue  haste  will  cause  suspi- 


178  THREE    PLAYS 

cion,  but  perhaps  it  is  the  lesser  of  the  two  evils.  By  the 
way,  how's  the  real  George. 

MAJOR.  He  is  well  in  health,  but  extremely  unman 
ageable  at  times.  He  is  safely  locked  up  in  the  upper 
part  of  the  house. 

LIEBER.  Be  careful  he  doesn't  get  downstairs,  or  our 
castle  will  tumble  about  our  ears  like  a  pack  of  cards. 
[Enter  EVY.  Exit  LIEBER.] 

EVY.     What  is  it,  Uncle? 

MAJOR.  I  just  wanted  to  ask  you  my  dear,  to  be 
lenient  with  any  of  George's  idiosyncracies. 

EVY.  Oh,  certainly,  Uncle  George.  I  have  too  many 
faults  myself  to  be  critical  of  others. 

MAJOR.  I  don't  mean  that  only,  my  dear;  but  you 
know,  George  occasionally  suffers  from  lack  of  memory, 
and  is  troubled  with  a  certain  mental  confusion. 

EVY.  Indeed!  I  hadn't  noticed  it,  Uncle.  I'm  so 
sorry  to  hear  it. 

MAJOR.  Oh,  it's  nothing  serious,  my  dear.  It  is  only 
when  he  is  very  fatigued  or  excited;  and,  of  course,  it  is 
a  legacy  left  from  that  dreadful  wound  he  received  on  his 
head  four  years  ago.  It  is  nothing  serious  at  all,  but 
sometimes  he  imagines  he  is  another  person. 

EVY.     How  very  strange. 

MAJOR.  Yes,  isn't  it?  He  thinks — his  name  is  Hugh 
Allen  or  some  such  name.  He  gets  quite  indignant  if 
anyone  disagrees  with  him  on  the  subject. 

[EvY  takes  out  her  handkerchief  and  begins  to  cry.} 

MAJOR.  There,  there,  my  dear,  there's  nothing  to  cry 
about. 

EVY.  Oh,  uncle,  I  am  so  sorry  he  is  not  well  yet.  He 
looks  so  big  and  strong,  and  handsome.  It  nearly  breaks 
my  heart  to  think  that  his  poor  head  is  still  troubling  him. 

MAJOR.  It  is  nothing,  my  dear,  and  it  may  not  occur 
once  a  year.  In  fact,  the  doctors  say  that  in  a  little  while 
it  will  wear  off  altogether. 

EVY.      (Smiling.)      I'm    so    pleased    to    hear    that. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  179 

George  was  so  bright  and  clever  when  I  knew  him  before 
the  accident,  I  can't  bear  to  think  of  him  otherwise. 
[Enter  SMITHERS.] 

SMITHERS.  Mr.  Lieber  would  like  to  see  you  in  the 
library,  sir. 

[Exit  MAJOR  and  SMITHERS,  and  enter  HUGH.  EVY 
takes  his  arm  and  leads  him  to  sofa  and  they  sit 
down.  ] 

EVY.  Now,  George,  I  want  you  to  tell  me  all  about 
yourself  these  last  three  years. 

HUGH.     That  would  be  a  long  story,  Miss  Seacrest. 

EVY.  Miss  Seacrest,  indeed.  How  ridiculous  of  you ! 
Why  don't  you  call  me  Evy? 

HUGH.  Certainly  I  will  call  you  Evy  if  you  wish  me 
to. 

EVY.  Of  course  I  wish  you  to,  silly  boy.  Haven't  I 
always  called  you  George  as  long  as  I've  known  you? 

HUGH.  (Laughing  sarcastically.)  It  takes  quite  an 
effort  of  memory  to  cover  thirty  minutes. 

EVY.     Thirty  minutes — what  are  you  talking  about? 

HUGH.  Well,  you've  known  me  just  thirty  minutes 
as  George  Dinsmere.  If  you  heard  of  me  before,  it  was 
as  Hugh  Allen. 

EVY.  I  know  all  about  Hugh  Allen.  Forget  him  for 
today  at  least. 

HUGH.  Forget  him,  oh  yes,  that's  easy  while  I'm  with 
you. 

EVY.  I  want  you  to  be  your  dear  old  self,  George,  and 
talk  about  old  times. 

HUGH.     A  kind  of  dress  rehearsal,  I  suppose. 

EVY.  I'm  not  going  to  talk  to  you  about  Hugh  Allen, 
and  I'm  going  to  leave  the  room  if  you  insist  on  talking 
about  that  horrid  person — I  don't  like  him. 

HUGH.  (Stiffly.)  Oh,  thank  you,  I  won't  forget  my 
self  again. 

EVY.  (Making  a  determined  effort  to  change  the  sub 
ject.)  That's  a  good  fellow.  Oh,  I  so  wish  you'd  been 
here  this  morning!  I  had  such  a  delightful  ride  on  old 


i8o  THREE    PLAYS 

Robin.  You  know,  it  was  on  his  broad  back  I  had  my 
first  lesson  in  riding.  I  rode  him  nearly  every  day  for 
five  years. 

HUGH.     Lucky  Robin! 

EVY.  I  believe  he  knew  me  when  I  went  into  the  stall 
today.  Of  course  I  rushed  out  to  see  him  the  minute  I 
got  up,  and  when  I  gave  him  some  sugar,  he  whinnied 
and  showed  his  pleasure. 

HUGH.  We  must  go  and  see  old  Robin  again  by  and 
by. 

EVY.  Yes,  I  should  like  to,  and  what  have  they  done 
with  poor  Kitty? 

HUGH.  I  don't  know.  I've  been  away  for  over  three 
years,  you  know. 

EVY.     Kitty  was  a  great  favorite  with  me. 

HUGH.     Yes,  I  remember  Kitty  was  a  good  old  mare. 

EVY.  Old  mare !  What  are  you  talking  about, 
George?  Fancy  calling  our  poor  little  dog  an  old  mare. 

HUGH.     That  was  a  joke,  Evy. 

EVY.  I'm  glad  to  hear  it.  But  I  don't  like  you  to  poke 
any  fun  at  my  pets. 

HUGH.     I'm  sorry,  Evy — I  won't  do  it  any  more. 

EVY.  And  weren't  you  grieved  to  hear  of  poor  Jane's 
death?  I  cried  for  two  whole  days  when  Uncle  George 
wrote  and  told  me  about  it. 

HUGH.  Poor  Jane.  She  died  of  the  mange,  and 
father  sent  her  to  the  veterinary  surgeon  to  be  stuffed  as 
an  ornament  for  his  library. 

EVY.  Oh,  George,  you  shock  me.  How  can  you  talk 
about  my  old  nursey  like  that. 

HUGH.     Bad  luck  to  me,  I'm  putting  myself  in  bad. 

[Enter  SMITHERS.     EVY  draws  away  from  GEORGE] 

EVY.  We  had  a  note  from  Mrs.  Cannon  today  to  say 
that  she  and  the  doctor  are  coming  to  call  tomorrow. 

HUGH.     Well,  what's  the  answer  to  that. 

EVY.     George! 

HUGH.     Oh,  I  mean  I'm  very  pleased  to  hear  it.     I 


THE    SLJBTERFUGE  181 

hope  he'll  bring  his  medicine  chest,  for  I  certainly  shall 
need  something  soothing  by  tomorrow. 

EVY.     Oh,  are  you  feeling  ill? 

HUGH.  No — only  one  minute  I'm  tickled  to  death,  and 
the  next  I  feel  half  crazy. 

EVY.  Oh,  poor  dear  fellow.  (Puts  her  arm  on  his 
shoulder.  HUGH  cuddles  up.)  But  what  would  poor 
Doctor  Cannon  have  to  do  with  medicine?  Oh,  I  see, 
you're  thinking  of  Doctor  Gunn,  who  treated  your  head. 
Dr.  Cannon  is  the  minister. 

HUGH.  Yes,  yes,  ha,  ha!  I  thought  Cannon  was 
Gunn — the  son  of  a  gun. 

SMITHERS.  Major  Dinsmere  ordered  me  to  show  you 
to  your  room,  Master  George. 

EVY.  Oh,  don't  mope  away  the  whole  afternoon  in 
your  room.  It's  three  hours  to  dinner  time  yet,  and  I've 
heaps  to  say  to  you. 

HUGH.     All   right.     Goodbye,   Evy,   till   this   evening. 
[Exit  SMITHERS.     Enter  MARTHA  excitedly.}  . 

MARTHA.     Oh,  Miss,  have  you  seen  Master  George? 

EVY.     Why,  certainly,  he  left  here  only  a  minute  ago. 

[MARTHA  rushes  out.  Enter  SMITHERS  excitedly. 
Looks  behind  chairs  and  curtains  and  rushes  out  the 
other  side.  Enter  MAJOR,  who  searches  excitedly 
and  rushes  out.] 

EVY.  Good  gracious,  what's  the  matter  with  those 
people?  There  must  be  a  fire. 

j-       [Exit.     Enter  SMITHERS  and  LIEBER.] 

SMITHERS.  Well,  blow  me  up  a  blooming  gum-tree, 
sir,  this  beats  the  blooming  band.  The  real  Master 
George  has  broken  out  of  his  room,  and  is  tearing  about 
loose  with  fire  in  his  eye.  If  these  two  should  get 
together,  there  would  be  an  'igh  old  time,  and  I  shall 
lose  my  job. 

LIEBER.     The  devil,  you  say.     (Exit.     Enter  MAJOR.) 

MAJOR.     Have  you  found  him,  Smithers? 

SMITHERS.     Found  him,   not  hi,   sir.     I   wish  I   'ad, 


182  THREE    PLAYS 

cause  he's  as  mad  as  an  'atter  today,  and  will  do  some 
damage  unless  he's  laid  hold  of. 

MAJOR.     You  son  of  a  fool  to  let  him  go ! 

SMITHERS.  Law,  sir,  'twarn't  my  fault.  He  hauled 
a  blooming  bar  off  the  window,  and  jumped  to  the  blind 
ing  ground  in  a  blithering  fit. 

MAJOR.     Where's  the  other  fellow? 

SMITHERS.     You  mean  Mr.  Allen? 

MAJOR.     Yes,  yes. 

SMITHERS.     I  left  him  in  his  room  having  a  shave. 

MAJOR.  Well,  go  up  and  don't  let  him  out  of  that 
room  till  George  is  locked  up. 

SMITHERS.  Lord,  sir,  how  can  I  'elp  him  from  leaving 
his  room?  He'd  punch  my  blooming  head  if  I  tried  to 
stop  him. 

MAJOR.  Well,  tell  him  I  wish  to  see  him  on  most  im 
portant  business,  and  not  to  leave  his  room  for  a  minute 
till  I  come  there. 

SMITHERS.     All  right,  sir,  all  right. 

[Exit.  Enter  EVY,  JOSEPH,  and  MARJORIE  MELVILLE. 
JOSEPH  says  very  little  during  the  action  of  the  piece 
except  "How-do-you-do,"  and  walks  about  looking 
at  things  with  his  cane  in  his  mouth.] 

MAJOR.  Good  afternoon,  Joseph.  Good  afternoon, 
Miss  Melville. 

[Evv  rings  bell.     Enter  MARTHA.] 

EVY.     Martha,  bring  some  tea,  please. 

MARJORIE.  I  didn't  see  you  out  on  the  links  yesterday, 
Major.  First  rate  game,  first  rate.  I  hope  you'll  be  out 
with  us  tomorrow. 

MAJOR.  I'm  not  feeling  very  fit.  (To  SMITHERS.) 
Damn  golf,  I  wish  I  could  get  away.  If  George  should 
get  in  here  while  these  people  are  here,  it  would  ruin  all 
our  plans.  Keep  a  sharp  lookout. 

[SMITHERS  looks  round  and  exit.  Enter  MARTHA 
with  tea  things.  Enter  LIEBER,  who  shakes  hands 
with  MARJORIE  and  JOSEPH.  ] 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  183 

LIEBER.  (Aside  to  MAJOR.)  Seen  anything  of  him 
yet? 

MAJOR.     Nothing. 

MARJORIE.  (To  JOSEPH.)  I  wonder  what  all  the 
mystery  is  about. 

JOSEPH.     Beg  pardon,  dear  ? 

MARJORIE.  (To  EVY.)  I  understand  that  George  is 
back  at  last.  Did  you  notice  any  change  in  him? 

EVY.  Not  a  bit;  he's  the  same  strong,  big,  handsome, 
brave  fellow  he  always  was. 

MARJORIE.  And  he's  just  as  crazy  about  athletics  as 
ever. 

EVY.  Why,  I  didn't  know  you  had  seen  him  since  his 
return. 

MARJORIE.     Well,  no,  I  can  hardly  say  I  have  met  him ; 
but  while  we  were  driving  up  the  avenue,  he  went  by 
like  a  streak  of  lightning.     He  certainly  must  have  broken 
a  record  between  the  house  and  the  lodge. 
[MAJOR  drops  cup  and  saucer.] 

MAJOR.  (In  whisper.)  Good  Lord,  Lieber,  we  are 
lost. 

LIEBER.     I'm  afraid  our  finely  laid  plan  is  destroyed. 

MAJOR.  You  go  to  Allen's  room  and  hold  him  there 
at  all  costs,  till  George  is  captured.  I  will  go  out  on  the 
grounds  and  try  to  corral  him.  There  is  some  hope  for 
us,  as  long  as  both  are  not  at  large  together.  (Exit 
MAJOR  and  LIEBER.) 

JOSEPH.  Devil  of  a  fellow,  George,  for  athletics. 
Always  in  training;  just  like  a  grayhound. 

EVY.     Don't  you  like  athletics,  Joseph? 

JOSEPH.  Oh,  I  like  to  see  other  fellows  do  them.  Too 
much  work  for  me. 

MARJORIE.  Joseph,  will  you  go  into  the  dining-room 
for  a  few  minutes,  like  a  good  fellow.  I  want  to  have 
a  few  words  in  private  with  Evy  before  I  go. 

JOSEPH.  Oh,  you  needn't  mind  me.  I  don't  mind 
listening. 

MARJORIE.     Run  along;  I  won't  keep  you  five  minutes. 


184  THREE    PLAYS 

There  are  some  things  which  men  had  better  not  hear. 
(Exit  JOSEPH.)  Now  Evy,  dear,  when  is  the  happy 
event  going  to  be?  Because,  of  course,  you  and  George 
were  made  for  each  other ;  and  when  we  were  all  kiddies, 
he  would  never  look  at  any  one  but  you. 

EVY.  Mar j one,  dear,  you'll  be  the  very  first  one  to 
hear  when  anything  is  settled,  but  there  is  nothing  definite 
yet,  though  Uncle  is  very  anxious  for  us  to  be  married 
soon. 

MARJORIE.  I'm  so  pleased,  dear,  and  I  give  you  my 
heartiest  congratulations.  I'm  sure  you'll  be  the  happiest 
girl  in  New  York. 

[Noise  outside  and  cries.  Enter  JOSEPH  on  a  run, 
with  his  clothes  torn,  his  hat  broken,  hair,  collar, 
and  tie  rumpled.  The  ladies  appear  very  much 
alarmed.  ] 

MARJORIE.     What  is  the  matter,  Joseph? 

JOSEPH.  Something  struck  me  in  the  hall,  but  whether 
it  was  a  madman,  or 'an  elephant,  I  am  not  sure,  as  I 
couldn't  see  in  the  semi-darkness,  but  it  felt  like  a  steam 
hammer.  I  don't  think  we'd  better  make  any  more  calls 
this  afternoon,  Marjorie. 

MARJORIE.  Certainly  not  while  you  appear  like  that. 
We  will  go  home. 

EVY.     Won't  you  stay  to  dinner? 

MARJORIE.     No,  thank  you. 

EVY.  Then  won't  you  promise  to  come  and  see  me 
again  tomorrow? 

MARJORIE.     With  pleasure,  dear;  goodbye. 

[MARJORIE  and  JOSEPH  go  out,  but  as  a  voice  is  heard 
outside,  JOSEPH  turns  back  and  gets  behind  EVY.] 

MARJORIE.  Come  on,  silly,  it's  only  Mr.  Lieber— 
goodbye. 

[  MARJORIE  and  JOSEPH  exit.     Enter  LIEBER.] 

LIEBER.  What  will  you  give  me  if  I  let  you  into  a 
secret  against  your  Uncle? 

EVY.  But  I  don't  want  to  know  my  Uncle's  secrets, 
Mr.  Lieber. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  185 

LIEBER.  Yes,  but  this  is  a  trick  that  George  and  his 
father  are  going  to  play  on  you,  and  they  have  made  a 
bet  about  it. 

EVY.     Oh,  do  tell  me  all  about  it. 

LIEBER.  Well,  the  Major  was  boasting  to  George  what 
a  plucky  little  girl  you  were,  and  George  offered  to  bet 
him  a  box  of  cigars  that  he  could  scare  you. 

EVY.  Oh,  really!  Well,  Master  George  is  mistaken. 
And  how  does  he  propose  to  frighten  poor  little  me? 

LIEBER.     He  is  going  to  pretend  to  be  mad. 

EVY.  Ha,  ha,  ha!  I'll  show  him  that  two  can  play 
that  game. 

LIEBER.  Don't  give  me  away.  Good-bye.  (Aside.} 
That  will  prevent  trouble  in  case  they  should  meet. 
(Exits.)  Enter  the  real  GEORGE  in  dressing-gown  with 
out  a  collar,  and  hair  rumpled.) 

EVY.     Oh,  he  thinks  he  can  frighten  me,  does  he! 

[When  GEORGE  enters,  she  turns  throwing  her 
hands  in  the  air,  and  giving  an  imitation  of  an  Indian 
war-dace.  GEORGE  watches  her  for  a  few  moments, 
then  walks  up  to  her,  grasps  her  wrist,  and  leads  her 
a  few  steps.] 

GEORGE.     Do  you  know  who  I  am,  little  girl? 

EVY.     Yes,  I  do,  big  man. 

GEORGE.  I  am  Bluebeard,  and  I  am  going  to  take  you 
to  my  tower  where  you  will  be  slave  to  my  seven  wives. 

EVY.  Mr.  Bluebeard,  I  will  go  with  you  to  your  tower 
some  day,  but  not  until  you  swear  to  be  my  slave,  and 
there  won't  be  seven  wives  if  I  know  anything  about  it. 
[GEORGE  casts  her  hand  aside  and  strides  back.] 

GEORGE.  Woman,  I  am  Ivan  the  Terrible,  and  I  eat 
little  girls  like  you  for  dessert. 

EVY.  Boo,  boo,  boo, — I  am  the  thirsty  tigress  from  the 
torrid  territory  of  Terra  Del  Fuego.  Leave  my  path,  or 
I  will  strike  you  down  and  drag  you  to  my  lair. 

GEORGE.  Ah,  you  are  a  brave,  fair  Queen,  and  a 
worthy  mate  for  me,  Edward  the  Black  Prince.  Wilt 


i86  THREE    PLAYS 

thou  not  fly  with  me?     My  charger  waits  without,  and 
the  drawbridge  spans  the  moat. 

[EvY  goes  up  to  him  and  pats  him  on  the  cheek.} 

EVY.  I  will  fly  with  you,  my  Black  Prince,  in  a  railway 
carriage  of  the  New  York  Central  Railway  in  a  few  days. 
Till  then,  be  patient.  And  now,  goose,  go  and  put  on 
your  coat;  you  can't  frighten  me. 

[Footsteps  are  heard  outside.  GEORGE  rushes  to  door, 
stands,  and  turns  back.} 

GEORGE.  Ah,  the  fiends  are  coming  to  drag  me  back 
to  the  dungeon.  But  I  will  evade  them,  I  will  be  re 
venged. 

[Laughs  feverishly  and  exit.} 

EVY.  My  goodness,  but  he's  a  good  actor!  If  Mr. 
Lieber  hadn't  let  me  into  the  secret,  I  should  have  been 
frightened  to  death. 

[Enter  MAJOR  behind  EVY.  When  she  hears  his  foot 
steps,  she  again  commences  to  act.} 

MAJOR.  Good  heavens,  are  you  going  insane  too? 
This  is  the  limit. 

EVY.  Oh,  is  it  you,  Uncle  George?  I  thought  it  was 
George.  I  want  to  make  him  lose  his  bet  with  you, 
though  I  hate  tobacco  and  cigars.  I  hope  he'll  admit  that 
he  never  even  frightened  me  a  little  bit. 

MAJOR.     His  bet  with  me. 

EVY.  Yes,  his  bet  that  he  could  scare  me  by  playing 
the  lunatic,  but  if  Mr.  Lieber  hadn't  told  me  about  it,  I 
certainly  should  have  been  scared  to  death. 

MAJOR.  (Aside.)  Phew,  Lieber  has  saved  the  situa 
tion.  (To  EVY.)  I  am  pleased  he  didn't  frighten  you, 
little  girl,  and  as  I  can't  divide  the  prize  with  you,  I  must 
give  a  special  prize  for  yourself — the  biggest  and  best 
box  of  chocolates  I  can  get.  But  excuse  me  now,  I  want 
to  see  the  rascal.  Which  way  did  he  go? 

EVY.     Towards  the  conservatory. 

[Exit  MAJOR.  Enter  HUGH  and  LIEBER.  EVY  throws 
her  hands  above  her  head  and  repeats  her  war- 
dance.  } 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  187 

EVY.  Get  thee  gone,  Black  Prince,  or  I  will  get  my 
doughty  guards  to  throw  thee  in  the  moat. 

HUGH.  (To  LIEBER.)  By  Jove,  she  must  have  gone 
off  her  head.  That's  dreadful. 

EVY.  Know  thee  that  I  am  Joan  of  Arc,  and  my  army 
is  encamped  beneath  the  Castle.  ( LIEBER  chuckles  to 
himself. ) 

HUGH.  (Taking  her  hand  and  patting  her  shoulder 
soothingly.)  Don't  take  it  to  heart,  Miss  Seacrest. 
Everything  will  be  all  right  in  a  few  days.  I  am  sorry 
that  something  has  excited  you. 

EVY.  (To  LIEBER.)  Ah,  Master  George  is  forgetting 
all  about  the  acting,  so  I  suppose  I  had  better  pretend  to 
forget  too.  (To  HUGH.)  Well,  George,  you'll  admit 
that  you  can't  frighten  me  very  much,  won't  you? 

HUGH.  Oh  yes,  I  can't  frighten  you,  and  I  wouldn't 
frighten  you  for  the  world.  Nothing  would  be  farther 
from  my  thoughts  than  to  frighten  or  worry  you  in  any 
way. 

EVY.     Don't  you  think  I've  acted  the  part  of  the  lunatic 
maiden  very  well? 

4    HUGH.     Excellently.     But  don't  do  it  again.     (Enter 
SMITHERS.) 

SMITHERS.     A  gentleman  to  see  you,  sir. 

EVY.  (Taking  card.)  Why,  it's  Davies.  I  haven't 
seen  him  for  years.  Show  him  up,  Smithers. 

HUGH.  Please  excuse  me  as  I  have  some  letters  to 
write. 

EVY.  Oh,  of  course,  I  know  you  have  no  reason  to 
like  Frank  and  I  don't  like  him  very  much  myself,  but 
I  must  see  him,  I  suppose.  However,  I  won't  ask  you 
to  share  the  torture. 

^  HUGH.     I'd  like  to  share  the  torture  with  you.     I  think 
I'd  give  him  more  than  his  share  of  it. 

EVY.  You  certainly  have  no  reason  to  like  him,  and 
neither  have  I. 

[Enter  SMITHERS.] 

HUGH.     Hadn't  I  better  stay? 


i88  THREE    PLAYS 

SMITHERS.     No,  no,  sir. 

EVY.     Smithers,  you  forget  yourself. 

HUGH.     What  the  deuce  have  you  got  to  say  about  it? 

SMITHERS.  Pardon  Miss  Evy,  but  the  Master  wants 
to  see  Mr.  George  at  once.  He  is  sick,  dying — 

HUGH.  Dying!  Great  Caesar,  where  is  he ?  (HUGH 
rushes  out.) 

SMITHERS.  In  your  room,  sir.  (Announcing.) 
Captain  Davies,  Miss. 

EVY.  (Starts.)  Oh,  horror!  It  is  he  who  frightened 
me  so  badly  at  the  station. 

DAVIES.  How-do-you-do,  Evy.  It  is  quite  an  age 
since  I  saw  you.  But  when  I  heard  you  were  back,  which 
was  this  morning,  I  hastened  to  pay  my  respects. 

EVY.  (Disdainfully.)  It  was  good  of  you;  but  you 
needn't  have  come  so  far  on  a  matter  of  social  duty. 

DAVIES.  Oh,  as  you  know,  I  owe  you  more  than  a 
social  call. 

EVY.     I  don't  understand  you. 

DAVIES.  Well,  it's  my  duty — and  a  very  delightful  one, 
I  may  say — under  the  will  of  our  great-aunt  to  ask  you 
to  do  me  the  honor  of  marrying  me. 

EVY.  Oh,  that  wretched  will !  When  shall  I  hear  the 
end  of  it?  Why  cannot  you  take  the  property,  and  let 
me  have  peace? 

DAVIES.  I  should  be  delighted,  my  dear,  but  the  Court 
of  Equity  is  a  stickler  for  form  and  ceremony.  Mrs. 
Martin  in  her  will  imposed  upon  me  the  duty  of  asking 
you  to  be  my  wife,  before  you  should  have  reached  your 
twenty-first  birthday.  If  you  accept  me,  we  shall  be  sole 
heirs  to  her  enormous  estates,  valued  at  several  millions. 

EVY.     And  suppose  I  don't? 

DAVIES.  Well,  if  you  don't,  and  we  are  both  unmar 
ried  when  you  reach  that  happy  day,  we  shall  inherit 
jointly  and  separately,  which  is  not  so  bad. 

EVY.  Which  is  very  much  better.  But  there  was  still 
another  provision  wasn't  there? 

DAVIES.     (Aside.)     Yes,  curse  it! 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  189 

EVY.  And  that  is,  if  I  marry  George  Dinsmere,  he 
and  I  inherit  the  estate  jointly,  and  my  uncle  gets  two 
hundred  thousand,  and  you  get  nothing. 

DAVIES.  So  I  believe.  Our  grand-aunt  must  have 
been  insane  when  she  made  that  will. 

EVY.  Well,  Frank,  you  know  uncle  has  always  been 
more  like  a  father  to  me  than  anything  else,  and  I  love 
him  more  than  I  can  say. 

DAVIES.  But  you  can't  love  George.  His  mind  is  un 
balanced. 

EVY.  Well,  I  am  really  anxious  that  Uncle  should  get 
the  two  hundred  thousand,  so  I  think  I  shall  have  to 
marry  George. 

DAVIES.  You  can't  know  what  you're  risking  in  mar 
rying  George.  You  know  that  for  months  he  was  a 
dangerous  lunatic  and  pronounced  incurable. 

EVY.  Yes,  and  I  suspect  whose  hand  struck  the  blow 
that  darkened  his  brain. 

DAVIES.  He  was  struck  down  in  a  Bowery  dive.  You 
can't  know  anything. 

EVY.     Only  what  I  have  heard. 

DAVIES,  He  was  drunk,  and  rioting  with  a  crowd  of 
students,  all  as  bad  as  himself. 

EVY.  You  can  gain  neither  my  respect  nor  my  love 
by  slandering  George. 

DAVIES.     But,  Evy,  I  love  you,  and  want  to  marry  you. 

EVY.     I  assure  you  the  wish  is  not  returned. 

DAVIES.  I  am  a  man  of  the  world,  and  have  the 
entree  to  the  best  society. 

EVY.  The  best  society — so  called — has  no  attraction 
for  me. 

DAVIES.  I  can  show  you  life  in  its  brightest  colors, 
and  every  day  and  every  night  would  be  a  round  of  colors. 

EVY.  The  life  you  paint  has  no  fascination  for  me, 
even  if  I  loved  you — which  I  do  not. 

DAVIES.  Well,  you  shall  choose  your  own  life,  and  do 
just  as  you  wish  after  we  are  married. 

EVY.     I  don't  love  you,  cousin,  I'm  afraid  I  don't  even 


190  THREE    PLAYS 

like  you ;  and  I  wouldn't  marry  you  if  I  were  compelled 
to  go  forth  and  work  with  my  hands  for  a  living. 

DAVIES.  But  I  love  you,  and  you  must  marry  me — it 
is  best  for  you. 

[Enter  MARTHA  behind  EVY,  so  that  her  eyes  and 
DAVIES'  meet.  She  starts  back  and  DAVIES  stops 
short.  ] 

DAVIES.  But  I  won't  speak  any  more  about  it  now. 
I  will  see  you  again.  And  now  won't  you  please  ask 
your  uncle  to  see  me  here? 

EVY.  With  pleasure.  Good-bye.  (Exit  EVY.  Enter 
MARTHA.) 

DAVIES.  (Savagely. .)  What  brings  you  here?  Are 
you  spying  on  me?  If  I  thought  you  were,  I'd  settle  you. 

MARTHA.  I  am  here  trying  to  make  an  honest  living, 
but  I  overheard  you  talking  to  my  young  mistress,  and  I 
swear  you  shall  not  dishonor  her. 

DAVIES.  You  don't  understand.  It  is  of  vital  import 
ance  that  I  marry  Miss  Seacrest.  When  I  do,  I  will  be 
rich,  and  I  will  take  care  of  your  sister. 

MARTHA.  Ah,  fair  words  always  came  from  your  lips. 
[Enter  LIEBER  unseen.] 

MARTHA.  But  there  is  my  sister — still  at  death's  door 
— still  calling  out  your  name  in  her  delirium ;  and  there's 
your  child  in  the  little  cradle  by  her  side.  There  is  a 
monument  of  your  truth. 

DAVIES.  (Taking  out  some  money  and  handing  it  to 
her.}  There,  there,  Martha,  I  really  like  your  sister  very 
much,  and  would  marry  her  if  I  could  afford  it. 

MARTHA.     You  made  that  promise  more  than  once. 

DAVIES.  Curse  you,  you  will  drive  me  insane.  She 
knows  I  love  her.  Take  this  money  and  send  it  to  her, 
and  tell  her  I'll  come  and  see  her  soon. 

MARTHA.     Ah,  your  promises  are  fair  and  easy. 

DAVIES.  And  when  my  fortunes  are  right — they  will 
be  soon — I  will  take  care  of  her  and  the  child,  and  will 
give  you  a  thousand  dollars  to  start  a  nice,  snug  little 
business  of  your  own. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  191 

MARTHA.  Oh,  you  have  a  fair  word  when  you  want  it, 
but  I'm  afraid  you  have  a  bad  heart. 

DAVIES.  Hush,  someone  is  coming,  and  mark  you! 
One  word  about  me,  and  I  will  expose  your  past  life  to 
these  people  and  get  you  sent  back  to  the  streets. 

[Exit  MARTHA.     Enter  MAJOR.     DAVIES  holds  out  his 
hand,  but  the  MAJOR  pretends  not  to  see  it.] 

MAJOR.     What  can  I  do  for  you? 

DAVIES.     I  asked  to  see  you  as  co-executor  of  the  will 
of  Mrs.  Martin,  and  tell  you  that  I  have  made  a  formal 
offer  of  marriage  to  Miss  Seacrest. 
[Enter  LIEBER.] 

LIEBER.  As  the  joint  executor  of  the  will  of  Mrs. 
Martin,  I  am  interested  in  that  statement,  so  you  will  not 
resent  my  presence. 

MAJOR.  There  can  be  no  interview  between  Captain 
Davies  and  myself  at  which  I  would  not  wish  you  to  be 
present.  (To  DAVIES.)  But  if  that  is  all  you  wish  to 
say,  I  will  bid  you  good  afternoon. 

DAVIES.  (Walks  to  door,  but  turns  back.)  That  is 
not  all.  I  want  to  say  that  I  feel  sure  that  George  Dins- 
mere  is  insane,  and  cannot,  consequently,  marry  Miss 
Seacrest. 

LIEBER.     Why  do  you  say  that  at  this  time? 

DAVIES.  Because  I  have  heard  rumors  of  an  approach 
ing  marriage  between  Miss  Seacrest  and  your  son. 

MAJOR.  I  take  great  pleasure  in  confirming  these 
rumors,  and  announce  that  in  a  few  months  my  son  will 
make  Miss  Seacrest  his  wife. 

DAVIES.  Impossible.  Your  son  is  a  raving  lunatic. 
I  will  be  present  in  church  and  prevent  the  ceremony. 

[MAJOR   clenches  his  fist  and  takes  a  step   towards 
DAVIES.     LIEBER  waves  him  back.] 

LIEBER.  How  do  you  know  that  George  Dinsmere  is 
insane  ? 

DAVIES.  It  doesn't  matter  how  I  know.  If  he  is  a 
sane  man,  produce  him. 

[Enter  EVY  and  HUGH,  laughing  and  talking.] 


192  THREE    PLAYS 

HUGH.  (Ironically.)  Talking  of  me?  (To  DAVIES.) 
At  your  service,  sir.  Let  me  show  you  the  door. 

[Takes  DAVIES  bj  the  collar,  marches  him  to  exit,  and 
pushes  him  out.] 

EVY.  (To  HUGH.)  I  haven't  yet  seen  the  old  south 
shrubbery,  where  we  used  to  play  years  ago.  Let  us 
visit  it,  George.  (They  go  out.) 

LIEBER.  By  Jove,  Major,  the  plot  works  like  a  charm. 
I  believe  we'll  win,  although  my  nerves  are  as  tight  as 
fiddle-strings. 

MAJOR.  Keep  up  your  courage,  we  can't  lose,  old  man. 
But  I  can  have  no  peace  while  George  is  at  liberty. 

LIEBER.     Any  news  of  him? 

MAJOR.  Yes,  he  is  perched  in  a  gigantic  oak  near  the 
stables,  with  Smithers  on  guard  at  the  foot  trying  to  coax 
'  him  down. 

LIEBER.     I  will  follow  Davies  and  see  him  off  the  place. 

MAJOR.  Yes,  yes.  Do,  and  then  see  that  Evy  and 
Allen  are  kept  out  of  the  way  until  he  is  captured.  I'll 
help  Smithers  to  coax  him  down.  (They  both  go  out. 
Enter  ABRAHAM.) 

ABRAHAM.  My!  vat  a  fuss.  Everyone  seems  to  be 
topsy  turvy.  No  servant  about  the  place — and  ain't  it  a 
lovely  place.  And  it  will  be  mine  for  only  fifty  thousand. 
Five  hundred  acres  within  fifteen  miles  of  the  city  hall. 
Why  in  the  next  boom  it  will  be  worth  a  million  cut  up 
in  lots.  Ah !  Abraham,  my  boy,  you  will  be  a  millionaire, 
and  my  little  Isaac  will  go  to  Congress  and  perhaps  be 
Governor.  Goot,  goot,  goot.  (Takes  mortgage  from  his 
pocket.)  Ah!  there  is  my  precious  mortgage  which 
makes  me  lord  of  all  I  see. 

[He  kisses  it.  Enter  GEORGE.  He  sees  ABRAHAM, 
pounces  upon  him,  and  pommels  him  into  insensi 
bility.  Takes  mortgage,  tears  off  a  piece  and  com 
mences  to  eat  it.  ABRAHAM  runs  and  GEORGE  goes 
after  him,  then  sits  down  and  begins  to  eat  mortgage. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  193 

Enter  MAJOR  and  SMITHERS  who  struggle  to  over 
power  him.     GEORGE  throws  them  off,  runs  to  win 
dow,    and,    with    one    leg    out,    continues    to    eat 
mortgage.  ] 
GEORGE.     Ah,  this  is  simply  delicious. 


CURTAIN 


I94  THREE    PLAYS 


ACT  III. 

[Scene:  Dining  room  at  Dinsmere  House,  three  days 
later.  SMITHERS  and  MARTHA  dusting  and  prepar 
ing  the  room.  MARTHA  goes  to  window  and  looks 
out.] 

MARTHA.     No  sign  of  them  yet,  Mr.  Smithers. 

SMITHERS.     I  hope  nothing  has  gone  wrong. 

MARTHA.-  And  what  could  go  wrong,  you  old  blith- 
erer?  Such  a  beautiful  pair  as  they  are.  I  never  set 
eyes  on  the  like  in  all  my  life  before. 

SMITHERS.  And  don't  you  think  we'd  make  a  pretty 
blooming  pair  ourselves  ? 

MARTHA.  Sure  we  would.  A  pair  of  peaches,  only 
the  bloom  is  off  a  bit. 

SMITHERS.  Say,  Martha,  won't  you  name  the  day? 
The  governor  has  promised  to  let  me  have  the  cottage 
any  day. 

MARTHA.     I  have  ideas  above  cottages,  Mr.  Smithers. 

SMITHERS.  I  dears  is  all  right,  but  solid  facts  is  the 
real  thing.  And  we  can  be  as  happy  as  a  pair  of  squirrels 
year  in  and  year  out,  for  the  rest  of  our  natural  lives. 

MARTHA.  What  will  you  say,  Bill  Smithers,  when  I 
tell  you  that  I  lost  a  thousand  dollars  this  morning? 

[SMITHERS  drops  his  napkin  and  stops  with  his  mouth 
open,  dumb  with  amazement.] 

SMITHERS.  Lost  a  thousand  dollars,  Martha?  Have 
yer  been  taking  of  something  to  make  yer  dream? 

MARTHA.  Dream  nothing.  I  swear,  Bill,  I  have  lost 
a  thousand  dollars  this  blessed  day. 

SMITHERS.  I  wouldn't  call  it  a  blessed  day  if  I  had 
lost  a  thousand,  but  when  did  he  die,  Martha? 

MARTHA.  You're  off  the  side-walk,  Bill;  nobody's 
left  me  nothing ! 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  195 

SMITHERS.  But  you  said  you  had  a  thousand  dollars 
this  morning. 

MARTHA.  I  said  nothing  of  the  kind.  I  said  I  lost  a 
thousand  dollars. 

SMITHERS.  Ho— quit  yer  kiddin'.  I  ain't  good  at 
guessing,  and  I'm  in  no  mood  for  jokin*. 

MARTHA.  Faith,  it's  no  joke,  Bill.  I've  lost  a  thousand 
dollars  by  this  here  marriage. 

SMITHERS.  Well,  spit  it  out.  Tell  me  about  it  if  yer 
goin'  ter.  You've  got  me  all  on  edge. 

MARTHA.     Can  you  read,  Bill? 

SMITHERS.     Your  insults  are  un-noticed. 

MARTHA.     Here,  read  that. 

SMITHERS.  (Reads.)  "Dear  Martha :  Meet  me  at  the 
Palm  Garden  tonight,  and  don't  forget  that  it's  your  own 
fault  if  you're  not  a  thousand  dollars  richer  within  a 
month.  F.  D."  Ha,  ha,  ha;  so  you've  been  keeping 
appointments  with  other  gentlemen  again.  I  washes  me 
hands  of  yer. 

[SMITHERS  turns  his  back  and  walks  with  his  head  in 
the  air.  MARTHA  grabs  his  shoulder  and  drags  him 
back.] 

MARTHA.  Don't  be  a  chump,  Bill  Smithers.  This  was 
not  sweet-heartin' ;  this  was  business. 

SMITHERS.  Out  with  it,  out  with  it!  Who's  me 
bloomin'  rival? 

MARTHA.  (Looks  around f  and  in  a  loud  whisper.) 
Captain  Davies. 

SMITHERS.     The  devil! 

MARTHA.  That's  who  he  is — the  devil  or  one  of  his 
imps. 

SMITHERS.     And  did  you  go. 

MARTHA.  Yes,  I  went  for  the  sake  of  my  sister.  You 
know  she  loves  the  very  ground  that  devil  walks  on. 

SMITHERS.     And  what  did  he  want? 

MARTHA.  Well,  the  day  before  yesterday  when  he 
was  here,  I  heard  him  propose  to  my  young  lady,  and  I 


196  THREE    PLAYS 

ups  and  tells  him  I  would  show  him  up  unless  he  stopped 
that  game,  and  he  did  the  right  thing  by  my  sister  Clara. 

SMITHERS.     Good  for  you,  old  girl. 

MARTHA.  At  first  he  got  mad-like;  but  when  he  saw 
he^  couldn't  frighten  me  he  used  the  soft  words  he  has  so 
smooth  on  the  end  of  his  tongue's  end,  and  he  says  to  me, 
"Martha,"  says  he,  "there's  a  thousand  dollars  in  it  for 
you  when  I  marry  Miss  Seacrest,  and  five  thousand  for 
Clara  and  the  kid,  providing  you  all  goes  back  to 
England." 

SMITHERS.  That  was  the  blooming  afternoon  the 
Governor  told  me  to  see  him  out  the  front  door — and  you 
should  have  seen  his  face.  I  half  suspected  he'd  come 
back  and  burn  the  house  down. 

MARTHA.  He'd  do  it.  too,  the  devil!  if  it  weren't  for 
risking  his  precious  skin. 

SMITHERS.  Well,  what  did  he  say  to  you,  when  you 
sees  him  at  the  Palm  Garden? 

MARTHA.  He  says,  says  he,  "Is  there  any  other  gentle 
man  staying  at  the  house  at  present  besides  Master 
George?"  And  I  says,  says  I,  "No,  that  with  the  excep 
tion  of  Mr.  Wetherby  and  himself,  that  there  had  been  no 
other  young  man  in  the  house  since  it  was  opened  three 
weeks  ago."  Says  he,  "How  does  Master  George  behave 
about  the  house?"  I  says,  says  I,  "Like  a  perfect  gentle 
man." 

SMITHERS.     Ha,  ha,  good  for  you,  Martha! 

MARTHA.  Says  he,"Has  he  ever  appeared  a  bit  daffy- 
like?"  I  says,  says  I,  "Yes,  he  does,  he  appears  to  be 
perfectly  daffy  about  the  young  lady,"  (SMITHERS 
laughs.)  says  I.  And  with  that,  he  banged  the  table  as 
if  he  was  mad  about  something. 

SMITHERS.     (Chuckling.)     Good,  good,  ha,  ha,  ha! 

MARTHA.  When  I  left,  he  gives  me  a  five-dollar  bill, 
and  asks  me  to  write  him  every  night  and  tell  him  whether 
or  no  any  new  person  appears  at  the  place,  and  what 
goes  on. 

SMITHERS.     Go  on  with  yer  yarn. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  197 

MARTHA.     Well  as  there's  nothing  to  tell,  I  did  it. 

SMITHERS.     I  knows  it;  I'm  on  to  his  little  game. 

MARTHA.  What  are  you  on  to?  Now  you  tell  me 
your  story.  I've  told  you  all  I  knows. 

SMITHERS.  In  a  little  while,  my  girl — when  we're 
married. 

MARTHA.  Well,  Bill  Smithers,  we'll  never  be  married, 
if  you  act  so  mean  as  to  have  secrets  from  me. 

SMITHERS.  Well,  don't  be  so  blooming  offish  about  it. 
There's  lots  of  young  ladies  that  would  be  glad  to  throw 
themselves  at  William  Smithers,  Esquire. 

[SMITHERS  winks  the  off-eye,  and  begins  to  dust 
vigorously.} 

MARTHA.     Bill,  there's  something  I  didn't  tell  you. 

SMITHERS.     Well,  I  didn't  ask  you  to  tell  me,  did  I? 

MARTHA.  I'd  like  to  tell  you,  because  you're  the  only 
friend  I've  got. 

SMITHERS.  (With  another  wink.)  Well,  I'm  all 
attention. 

MARTHA.  Well,  yesterday  after  luncheon  Mr.  Lieber 
remained  in  the  dining-room,  and  says  to  me,  "Martha, 
I  have  heard  that  Captain  Davies  is  acquainted  with  some 
member  of  your  family."  "Yes,  and  it's  not  a  bit  my 
sister's  fault."  "How  long  has  she  known  Captain  Dav 
ies,"  says  he.  "A  year  ago  last  Christmas,"  says  I. 
"And  he  promised  to  marry  her,"  says  he.  "That  he  did, 
sir,"  says  I.  "And  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  fake  up  a 
marriage,  and  it's  nearly  broken-hearted  she  is,  when  she 
found  out  how  she'd  been  deceived — and  she  the  prettiest 
girl  in  Brooklyn."  "Well,  Martha,"  says  he,  "I  take  an 
interest  in  your  case,  and  I  will  call  and  see  your  sister 
soon,  and  talk  it  over." 

SMITHERS.     And  did  he  call? 

MARTHA.     Yes.     Ssh,  ssh — here's  Abraham. 

[Enter  ABRAHAM,  arm  in  sling,  crutch  under  other 
arm,  head  bandaged.] 

ABRAHAM.     Ah,  but  I'm  in  the  house,  though  it  cost 


198  THREE    PLAYS 

me  a  good  hammering.  But  I'm  a  guest  like  any  other 
gentleman  and  I'll  own  the  place  yet. 

SMITHERS.  Here,  Master  Abraham,  you'd  better  get 
out.  The  guests  are  returning. 

ABRAHAM.     Ain't  I  a  guest? 

SMITHERS.  Yes,  you're  a  guest  all  right,  but  you're 
hardly  the  kind  of  a  spectacle  a  wedding-party  would  like 
to  see. 

ABRAHAM.  Look  here,  I'm  a  guest  of  the  house,  and 
I'll  be  the  owner  of  the  place  yet,  and  if  you're  not  polite, 
you'll  lose  your  job. 

SMITHERS.     Do  you  know  who's  been  married  today? 

ABRAHAM.  How  could  I  know  who's  been  married, 
when  I've  been  in  bed  for  three  days?  This  is  the  first 
minute  that  I  could  get  up  and  crawl  round  and  look  at 
my  estate — that  is  to  be. 

MARTHA.  (Laughing.)  Well,  it's  the  man  that  half 
killed  you,  and  he'll  kill  you  entirely  if  he  comes  back  and 
sees  you  here.  So  get  out. 

ABRAHAM.  Oh,  won't  I  make  a  clean  sweep  when  I 
foreclose  my  mortgage. 

MARTHA.  (Throwing  duster.)  Get  out,  you  scare 
crow.  Here  they  come.  There  are  the  carriages. 

[Rushes  to  window,  followed  by  SMITHERS.  Exit 
ABRAHAM.] 

MARTHA.  Ah,  there  he  is!  Don't  he  look  noble  and 
handsome. 

SMITHERS.  Ain't  she  a  queen!  What  a  handsome 
couple  they  make.  Oh,  do  name  the  happy  day,  Martha. 

[Enter  EVY,  HUGH,  MAJOR,  LIEBER,  MRS.  LIEBER, 
MARJORIE  MELVILLE,  and  JOSEPH.] 

MAJOR.  (Walking  up  to  SMITHERS.)  Smithers,  at 
the  very  first  opportunity,  as  soon  as  Miss  Evy  has  gone 
to  change,  present  this  to  Mr.  Allen. 

SMITHERS.     Very  well,  sir. 

EVY.  George,  this  is  the  first  opportunity  I  have  had 
to  speak  to  you  as  uncle  was  in  the  cariage  with  us. 

HUGH.     I  am  glad  it  is  all  over.     It  was  heart-break- 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  199 

ing;  it  was  so  real  that  I  have  wanted  a  dozen  times  to 
take  you  to  my  heart  and  tell  you  how  much  I  love  you, 
though  I  know  how  little  right  I  have  to  do  that,  and  you 
must  despise  me  for  the  part  I  have  played. 

EVY.  I  have  been  very  happy  through  it  all,  George 
dear. 

HUGH.  (Impatiently.)  Cannot  you  forget  the  sham 
George  for  a  moment?  We  have  only  a  few  minutes 
together.  Speak  to  me  as  Hugh  Allen — if  only  once, 
that  I  may  carry  away  the  memory  of  it  forever. 

EVY.  Oh,  don't  get  excited,  dear  boy.  I  will  call  you 
Hugh  Allen,  or  any  other  name,  if  it  pleases  you.  Now 
I  must  run  away  and  change  my  dress  for  the  journey. 
I  don't  care  for  anything  now. 

HUGH.  Are  you  an  angel  or  a  demon  to  speak  to  me 
like  this?  You  know  in  your  heart  that  in  a  few  minutes 
you  will  have  seen  the  last  of  me — in  this  life  at  least. 
You  must  know  that  when  I  have  forgotten  that  I  ever 
posed  as  George  Dinsmere,  I  will  love  you  as  Hugh  Allen. 
You  must  know,  with  your  woman's  intuition,  that  you 
have  taken  a  place  in  my  heart  that  no  other  woman  can 
ever  displace.  Cannot  you  give  poor,  despised,  dishon 
ored  Allen  one  kind  and  loving  thought  to  take  the  place 
of  the  woman  he  has  allowed  himself  so  foolishly  to  love? 

EVY.  Dear  boy,  I  won't  stay  another  moment  with 
you,  and  you  must  calm  down  in  time  to  say  good-bye. 
Au  revoir,  dearest. 

[As  she  goes  out  she  calls  goodbye  to  all  the  other 
guests.  ] 

JOSEPH.  (To  MARJORIE.)  Now,  Marjorie,  that's  just 
the  kind  of  wedding  I  want  when  we  are  married — nice 
and  quiet — and  only  the  family  and  one  or  two  near 
friends. 

MARJORIE.  Oh,  it  would  never  do,  Joseph;  what 
would  society  think? 

JOSEPH.     Oh,  hang  society. 

[Refreshments  are  being  served  by  MARTHA  and 
SMITHERS.] 


200  THREE    PLAYS 

MAJOR.  (To  LIBBER.)  Now,  Lieber,  you'd  better 
send  Mrs.  Lieber  back  to  the  station,  so  that  she  can 
catch  the  next  train  back  to  the  city,  and  as  the  carriage 
will  be  going,  it  will  be  a  good  excuse  to  get  rid  of  Joseph 
and  Miss  Melville. 

LIEBER.  Yes,  that  will  give  you  a  clear  field  to  get 
rid  of  Allen  without  making  too  much  of  a  fuss. 

MAJOR.  I  am  considerably  worried,  Lieber,  as  to  how 
Evy  will  behave.  I'm  afraid  she's  hard  hit  with  the  boy, 
and  it  will  break -her  heart  when  we  tell  her  the  truth. 

LIEBER.  Well,  it's  principally  for  her  benefit,  and  you 
must  rush  her  away  on  tomorrow's  boat  to  Europe.  Give 
her  carte  blanche  in  Paris,  my  boy,  and  if  that  doesn't 
help  her  to  forgive  and  forget  she's  different  from  other 
women. 

LIEBER.  (To  MRS.  LIEBER.)  I'm  afraid  I'll  have  to 
hurry  you,  my  dear,  as  you  will  have  barely  time  to  catch 
the  train. 

MAJOR.  You'll  excuse  my  apparent  lack  of  hospitality, 
Joseph,  but  it  might  be  best  for  you  and  Miss  Melville  to 
take  the  carriage  with  Mrs.  Lieber,  as  the  happy  couple 
will  need  the  only  other  available  one.  Lieber  and  I  will 
stay  on  to  settle  the  legal  details. 

MARJORIE.  Yes,  that  will  suit  us  very  nicely,  Major 
Dinsmere,  and  congratulations. 

[Good-byes  are  exchanged  and  MRS.  LIEBER,  MAR 
JORIE,  and  JOSEPH  go  out.  Enter  HUGH.] 

HUGH.  Now,  sir,  give  me  the  price  of  my  dishonor 
and  depart. 

MAJOR.  Here  you  are,  Allen.  You  will  find  five 
thousand  dollars  in  bills  in  that  envelope,  and  a  letter  of 
credit  on  San  Francisco  for  a  similar  amount.  We  wish 
you  happiness  and  success  in  your  new  career. 

HUGH.  A  few  weeks  ago,  when  I  first  met  you,  this 
seemed  a  large  sum.  But  today  I  feel  I  have  lost  two 
things  for  which  this  but  ill  repays  me. 

MAJOR.  Tut,  tut,  man,  you  have  lost  nothing.  You 
have  aided  in  doing  a  good  turn  for  a  pretty  and  innocent 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  201 

girl,  and  the  only  person  injured  by  the  transaction  is  a 
scoundrel. 

HUGH.  The  nearness  which  I  have  enjoyed  to  that 
pure  sweet  girl,  has  awakened  the  finer  instincts  which 
lay  dormant  within  me;  and  worse  still,  I  have  learned 
to  love  her  with  a  love  that  will  always  dominate  me, 
while  I  hate  myself  for  doing  it,  knowing  as  I  do  that 
she  has  looked  upon  me  with  contempt  through  it  all. 

MAJOR.  Nonsense,  man.  You  were  doing  it  for  her 
sake. 

HUGH.  Often  when  my  heart  has  melted,  and  my  love 
surged  forth  to  meet  her  winning,  winsome  smile,  the 
thought  that  she  was  acting  a  part,  and  perhaps  consid 
ered  me  a  mere  weak  tool  in  the  commission  of  this  crime, 
has  served  to  rouse  me  to  rebellion  almost,  against  the 
whole  plot ;  but  heaven  knows,  in  spite  of  all,  I  love  her, 
and  I  will  always  think  of  her,  not  as  the  half  adventuress 
which  you  have  painted  her,  but  as  a  pure,  sweet,  innocent 
girl — the  highest  ideal  of  my  imagination. 

MAJOR.  Come,  my  good  fellow,  this  romantic  non 
sense  is  entirely  out  of  place.  You  were  engaged  for  a 
certain  service,  and  you  have  your  pay  for  it.  Now,  the 
sooner  you  complete  your  contract  by  leaving  this  house 
and  the  state,  the  better. 

HUGH.     Very   well.     I    will   change  my   clothes   into 
something  more  suitable  for  travel,  and  get  out. 
[Exit  MAJOR  and  HUGH.     Enter  EVY.] 

EVY.  I  wonder  where  George  is.  I  suppose  he  is  busy 
with  Uncle  and  Mr.  Lieber.  But  what  does  it  matter? 
I  will  have  him  to  myself  for  days,  and  weeks,  and 
months,  and  years.  I  am  so  happy.  I  love  him  so  much. 
(Looks  at  her  watch.)  Still  two  hours  to  wait  for  that 
wretched  train.  I  hope  he  won't  stay  with  them  all  that 
time. 

[Enter  the  real  GEORGE,  hair  and  clothes  disarranged 
as  before.} 

EVY.  Ha,  ha,  there  you  are !  and  what  a  perfect  fright 
you  look  again.  What  have  you  been  doing  to  yourself? 


202  THREE    PLAYS 

Now  none  of  that  nonsense  about  Allen,  or  I  won't  speak 
to  you  for  a  week. 

George.  (Laughing  uneasily.)  Ha,  ha,  I  see  by  your 
smile  that  I  am  still  your  favorite  and  as  sure  as  my  name 
is  Walter  Raleigh,  I'm  ready  to  lay  my  body  in  the  mud- 
covered  street  to  keep  your  fairy  feet  from  dampness. 

EVY.  (Marching  right  up  to  him,  and  looking  him  in 
the  face.)  Now,  I  won't  have  any  more  of  this  nonsense 
on  our  wedding  day.  I've  just  been  dying  for  you  to 
come  in,  and  now  you're  playing.  (She  stops  suddenly.) 
My  God,  what  is  this  dreadful  thing?  Those  eyes,  that 
mouth,  this  is  not  acting.  He  is  mad,  mad,  mad. 
[She  buries  her  face  in  her  hands  and  sobs.] 

GEORGE.  (Soothingly.)  Don't  cry,  little  baby.  I 
won't  hurt  you.  I'm  not  angry  with  you. 

EVY.  Even  his  voice  is  changed.  Those  tones  that 
had  such  power  to  thrill  every  fibre  in  my  heart,  are 
gone,  gone,  gone. 

GEORGE.  (Pathetically.)  I  am  not  angry  with  you, 
little  baby,  only  with  Smithers  for  locking  me  in  that 
cold,  ugly  tower  for  days  and  days,  when  I  long  to  be 
out  in  the  green  fields. 

[EvY  starts  up,  and,  looking  in  his  eyes  for  a  moment, 
studies  every  line  of  his  face.] 

EVY.  Oh,  my  poor  darling,  how  changed  in  one  short 
hour.  What  are  those  sunken  cheeks,  those  heavy  lines? 
It  is  not  George.  It  is  not  my  darling,  and  yet,  oh  God, 
I  am  going  mad  myself.  Save  me,  save  me,  save  me. 

GEORGE.  I  can't  save  you — dear  one — I  wish  I  could. 
I  can't  even  save  myself.  They  are  running  after  me 
again. 

[Runs  out.    Enter  SMITHERS,  looking  excitedly  around. 
As  he  is  about  to  rush  out  EVY  calls  him  back.] 

EVY.     Smithers,  come  here. 

SMITHERS.  Excuse  me,  now,  Miss,  I'm  in  a  great 
hurry  on  important  business. 

EVY.    (Commandingly.)    Smithers,  come  here  instantly. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  203 

SMITHERS.  Yes,  Miss,  but  I'm  in  a  great  hurry,  and 
I  will  send  Martha  to  you. 

EVY.  Smithers,  answer  me  truly  and  without  equivo 
cation.  Where  is  George? 

SMITHERS.     Which  of  them? 

EVY.     What? 

SMITHERS.  I  means  Miss — really  Miss,  let  me  go,  or 
I  shall  be  a  losing  of  my  job. 

EVY.  Smithers,  who  is  the  lunatic  who  frightened  me 
so  badly  just  now? 

SMITHERS.  Excuse  me,  Miss,  that  was  your  husband. 
There  he  is  now,  and  I  must  catch  him  or  I  shall  lose  my 
place.  (SMITHERS  exit.) 

EVY.    I  am  a  child  no  longer.    I  will  solve  this  mystery. 

[Goes  after  SMITHERS.     Enter  HUGH  and  MAJOR.] 

MAJOR.  You  will  find  the  carriage  ready,  and  I  need 
not  say,  that  if  you  meet  Miss  Seacrest,  you  will  refrain 
from  speaking  to  her. 

HUGH.  I  won't  need  the  carriage.  The  distance  to 
the -station  is  only  a  few  miles,  and  the  walk  will  help  to 
calm  my  mind,  and  to  get  me  used  to  the  new  order  of 
things. 

MAJOR.  How  about  your  baggage?  You  haven't  all 
your  new  things  in  that  bag,  surely? 

HUGH.  No,  only  my  old  things.  Perhaps  the  real 
George  will  be  able  to  fill  them  better  than  I  filled  his 
shoes.  Good-bye.  (Exit.) 

MAJOR.     By  Jove,  the  ordeal  is  over,  and  nothing  re 
mains  but  to  tell  the  girl  that  her  husband  has  got  a  little 
bit  daft  with  the  happiness  and  excitement. 
[Enter  LIEBER.] 

LIEBER.  Well,  Dinsmere,  the  worst  is  over,  and  the 
game  is  almost  won.  I  saw  Allen  from  the  window 
striding  along  the  avenue,  as  if  he  were  anxious  to  leave 
the  house  behind  him  as  soon  as  possible ;  and,  by  George, 
I  feel  half  sorry  for  him;  he's  a  fine  fellow. 

MAJOR.  Ah,  yes,  I  wish  he  were  indeed  my  son.  I 
have  learned  to  love  him  as  such. 


204  THREE    PLAYS 

LIEBER.  Yes,  but  the  only  safe  way  is  to  get  him  out 
of  this  part  of  the  country.  We've  been  engaged  in  a 
dangerous  breach  of  the  law,  my  friend,  and  exposure 
means  the  prisoner's  dock  for  both  of  us. 

MAJOR.  Yes,  I  know,  and  the  worst  is  not  yet  over. 
[Enter  EVY.] 

EVY.     Uncle,  what  have  you  done  with  my  husband? 

MAJOR.  Why,  my  dear,  I  have  done  nothing  with 
your  husband.  He  got  one  of  his  old  attacks  directly 
after  he  got  back  here  and  went  straight  to  his  room; 
but  I  presume  he  will  be  ready  to  catch  the  Western  train 
as  arranged. 

EVY.  Uncle,  who  was  the  madman  who  came  into 
this  room  a  few  minutes  ago,  and  nearly  frightened  me 
to  death? 

LIEBER.     Is  it  as  bad  as  that? 

MAJOR.     Yes  I'm  afraid  he's  got  a  bad  attack  this  time. 

LIEBER.  I'm  dreadfully  sorry,  I'm  afraid  we'll  have 
to  lock  him  up  in  the  tower  for  a  few  days. 

EVY.     I  suppose  that's  the  best  thing  to  do. 

MAJOR.  I'm  exceedingly  sorry,  my  dear,  that  your 
honeymoon  should  have  such  a  poor  beginning,  and  I 
think  it  would  be  best  for  you  to  take  a  short  run  over 
to  Paris  with  your  uncle  until  George  recovers.  The 
excitement  was  too  much  for  him. 

EVY.  No,  if  my  husband  is  to  be  locked  up  in  a  tower, 
you  must  lock  me  up  with  him  and  let  me  nurse  him  back 
to  health. 

MAJOR.  But  that  is  impossible,  my  dear;  he  is  a 
lunatic — dangerous  sometimes — he  might  injure  you. 

EVY.  If  he  is  a  lunatic,  why  did  you  let  me  marry 
him? 

MAJOR.  To  save  your  fortune,  my  dear;  besides,  he 
was  not  a  lunatic  when  you  were  married. 

EVY.  I'm  sure  of  that!  Although  he  acted  queerly 
sometimes. 

LIEBER.  Now,  be  reasonable,  Evy.  The  marriage  has 
taken  place,  which  was  to  prevent  your  grand-aunt's  mon- 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  205 

ey  from  falling  into  the  hands  of  that  rascal  Davies.  In 
a  little  while,  a  year  perhaps,  if  your  husband  does  not 
recover  his  mind,  we  will  get  you  a  divorce  without 
scandal  or  undue  publicity. 

[Enter  MAJOR.] 

EVY.  Oh,  you  are  cruel,  pitiless,  thus  to  crush  a  poor 
girl.  Even  if  your  intentions  were  of  the  best,  your 
view-point  was  only  money,  while,  alas,  I  am  to  surfer 
in  mind  and  heart.  Oh,  uncle,  how  could  you,  how  could 
you.  Please  give  me  back  my  husband,  and  take  the 
money,  take  everything. 

[Enter  HUGH.] 

EVY.  Ah,  George,  my  husband,  I  knew  you  would 
come  back  to  me. 

[Runs  to  HUGH  who  holds  out  his  hand  against  her.] 

HUGH.  Pardon,  Miss  Seacrest,  I'm  not  George  as  you 
know;  I'm  Hugh  Allen. 

EVY.  You're  the  man  I  love.  I  am  your  wife.  Oh, 
don't  turn  me  away  from  you. 

HUGH.  You  must  be  mistaken.  You  love  George 
Dinsmere.  I  am  only  a  poor  adventurer,  a  soldier  of 
fortune,  not  of  your  class. 

MAJOR.  (Taking  her  arm  and  trying  to  pull  her  away.) 
Have  you  no  shame,  niece?  He  has  not  come  back  for 
you,  but  for  his  money,  the  price  of  his  work  here,  which 
will  enable  him  to  marry  some  sweetheart  of  his  own 
class,  who  is,  no  doubt,  waiting  for  him  now  in  some 
Sixth  Avenue  restaurant. 

HUGH.  That  is  an  unnecessary  lie.  Miss  Seacrest 
is  not  of  my  station  of  life,  but  I  love  her,  and  her  only. 

EVY.  (Flying  to  his  arms.)  I  am  your  wife;  don't 
let  them  separate  us,  it  would  kill  me,  I  will  be  proud  to 
bear  your  name,  whatever  it  is. 

HUGH.  Then  you  are  mine,  and  I  am  yours  till  death 
and  they  shall  never  part  us  with  my  consent. 


CURTAIN 


206  THREE    PLAYS 


ACT  IV. 

[Scene:  same,  an  hour  later.     LIEBER  and  MAJOR  sitting 
at  table  as  curtain  rises.     Enter  EVY.] 

MAJOR.  Well,  my  dear,  I  am  glad  to  see  that  you 
have  pulled  yourself  together.  The  trip  will  do  you  good, 
and  you  will  soon  forget  all  the  excitement  in  constant 
travel. 

EVY.  I  shall  never  forget  it,  Uncle,  and  I'm  afraid  I 
shall  never  forgive  you  for  causing  me  this  great  pain, 
and  for  driving  the  man  I  love  from  the  house. 

LIEBER.  But  it  was  the  only  thing  to  be  done,  my 
dear.  The  marriage  was  not  a  legal  one,  and  you  could 
not,  under  the  circumstances  be  permitted  to  see  him 
again. 

EVY.  If  you  were  as  anxious  to  bring  us  together,  as 
you  are  to  separate  us,  you  would — you  could — find  a 
way. 

LIEBER.  There  was  only  one  way,  and  that  was  to 
send  Mr.  Allen  away. 

MAJOR.  You  must  try  to  forget  all  this,  my  dear. 
We  acted  for  the  best  in  this  matter,  and  now  that  our 
plot  has  failed,  we  must  all  try  to  forget  it,  unless,  indeed, 
you  will  be  reasonable,  and  consent  to  keep  up  the 
deception. 

EVY.     I  cannot  do  it ;  I  cannot. 

LIEBER.  Now,  listen  to  me,  Evy.  I  see  a  way  out  of 
the  difficulty.  You  write  to  Mr.  Allen  and  ask  him  to 
leave  New  York  for  three  years,  and  at  the  end  of  that 
time,  if  you  are  both  of  the  same  mind  he  can  come  back 
and  pay  court  to  you  in  due  form. 

EVY.  Three  years.  I  cannot  think  of  it.  It  is 
eternity. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  207 

MAJOR.  Yes,  Evy,  for  my  sake,  and  poor  George's, 
do  this.  Let  the  announcement  go  forth,  as  we  originally 
planned,  so  that  the  estate  can  be  distributed.  We  can 
go  abroad  and  travel  the  greater  part  of  that  period,  and 
Mr.  Lieber  can  attend  to  the  details  of  a  quiet  divorce 
from  your  husband  George,  and  then  you  can  go  abroad 
and  marry  Mr.  Allen  under  his  own  name. 

EVY.  I  suppose  it  is  the  best  thing  that  can  be  done, 
and  if  you  will  permit  me  to  see  Hugh,  I  will  ask  his 
advice  about  it,  and  if  he  consents,  I  will. 

LIEBER.     No,  no,  you  had  better  not  see  him  any  more ; 
but  you  can  write  to  him  if  you  wish. 
[Enter  SMITHERS.] 

SMITH ERS.  Captain  Davies  wishes  to  see  you  at  once, 
sir. 

MAJOR.  I  will  not  see  him  now;  tell  him  to  come 
some  other  time. 

SMITHERS.  But  he  insists  he  must  see  you  sir.  He 
won't  be  put  off. 

MAJOR.     Tell  him  to  go  to — 

[Enter  DAVIES.] 

DAVIES.  Pardon  my  intrusion,  gentlemen,  and  you, 
Mrs. — .  By  the  by,  what  is  your  name? 

MAJOR.     Mrs.  George  Dinsmere,  sir,  my  son's  wife. 

DAVIES.  Ha,  ha,  ha,  that's  funny;  I  didn't  know  you 
had  twins. 

[MAJOR  appears  dumbfounded.] 

LIEBER.  What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  intruding  at  this 
time? 

DAVIES.  Ah,  you're  the  scoundrel  that  got  up  the  con 
spiracy  to  defraud  me.  What  is  the  punishment  for 
conspiracy  to  defraud? 

MAJOR.     What  do  you  mean  sir;  what  do  you  know? 

DAVIES.  I  know  that  your  son,  George,  is  confined  in 
the  house,  a  hopeless  lunatic.  I  know  that  this  minute, 
his  double  is  in  the  village  followed  by  two  of  my  men. 
Your  coachman,  who  is  a  spy  in  my  employ,  informs  me 


208  THREE    PLAYS 

that  the  other  is  still  a  prisoner  in  the  house.     Tomorrow 
you  will  all  be  in  jail. 

EVY.     Oh,  Hugh,  my  darling. 

DAVIES.  You  will  stand  by  your  darling  in  the  criminal 
dock. 

EVY.  I  care  not  where  I  stand,  so  long  as  I  stand  by 
his  side. 

DAVIES.  I  give  you  one  chance,  my  lady;  and  that  is 
that  you  marry  me  at  once. 

EVY.  Never.  I  would  suffer  any  punishment  rather 
than  become  your  wife. 

MAJOR.     Quite  right,  Evy. 

DAVIES.  I  will  give  you  until  tomorrow  to  make  up 
your  mind.  Be  my  wife  or  go  to  jail  with  this  band  of 
criminals. 

[Enter  HUGH.] 

HUGH.  (Lightly.)  How  can  she  become  your  wife, 
when  she  is  mine  already? 

EVY.  Oh,  darling,  I'm  so  glad  to  have  you  back  again. 
Don't  leave  me. 

DAVIES.  Oh,  you  are  the  fellow  who  posed  as  George 
Dinsmere  to  defraud  me  of  my  rights.  Well,  it's  just  as 
well  you  came  back  as  you  couldn't  escape. 

HUGH.     Escape  from  what? 

DAVIES.  Escape  arrest  on  the  charge  of  conspiracy, 
perjury,  and  forgery.  My  men  were  on  your  shadow; 
there  they  are. 

[Enter  SERGEANT  and  WILLIAMS  in  plain  clothes.] 

HUGH.  Well,  I  wouldn't  escape  if  I  could;  and  I'd 
cheerfully  enter  the  blackest  dungeon  in  Siberia  to  be 
near  my  little  wife. 

EVY.  I'm  not  your  wife  yet,  dear,  really,  but  I'll  be 
no  one  else's  if  I  can't  be  yours. 

HUGH.  Yes,  you  are,  my  darling,  just  as  solid  as  the 
law  can  make  us.  I  never  spent  five  dollars  so  well  in 
my  life,  as  the  five  I  gave  a  lawyer  just  now  for  that 
piece  of  legal  information. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  209 

EVY.  (Running  to  LIBBER.)  Oh,  is  it  true?  Tell  me 
it  is  true. 

LIEBER.  Yes,  that's  a  good  law.  He's  your  husband 
sure  enough,  and  I  hope  he'll  be  worthy  of  you. 

DAVIES.  And  you'll  spend  your  honeymoon  in  a  cell 
with  the  rest  of  this  gang  of  swindlers. 

HUGH.  If  there's  anybody  that  will  have  to  go  to  a 
cell,  I  think  it  will  be  you,  Mr.  Thug. 

DAVIES.  Ha,  ha,  that  comes  well  from  a  man  who  has 
tried  to  rob  me  by  impersonating  a  lunatic. 

HUGH.  And  who  made  him  a  lunatic.  Who  muddled 
him  with  drink,  and  then  lured  him  into  a  blind  alley,  to 
strike  him  down  in  the  dark?  Who  drank  his  wine  one 
moment,  and  left  him  weltering  in  his  blood  the  next? 

DAVIES.  (Worried.)  You're  crazy  as  he,  my  man. 
I  know  nothing  of  what  you  say.  I  was  at  Boston  at  the 
time. 

HUGH.  You  were  supposed  to  be  in  Boston,  but  you 
returned  secretly  and  met  him  by  appointment.  And  the 
crime  was  not  without  a  witness,  as  you  know. 

DAVIES.  (Very  nervous.)  Ridiculous,  my  friend. 
No  judge  would  listen  to  your  story. 

WILLIAMS.  (Stepping  forward.)  But  they  would 
listen  to  mine,  Captain.  I  was  your  servant  then  as  I 
am  now;  but  I've  done  your  dirty  work  too  long,  and 
when  it  comes  to  injuring  my  old  chum,  the  limit  is 
reached. 

[Shakes  hands  with  HUGH.] 

DAVIES.    Damn  you !    It's  a  lie,  it's  another  conspiracy. 

HUGH.  We  will  see  about  that  later.  And  now  the 
air  would  be  purer  and  fresher  for  your  absence. 

DAVIES.  Major  Dinsmere,  and  you,  Mr.  Lieber,  I 
notify  you  as  trustees  that  I  had  complied  with  the  terms 
of  my  aunt's  will,  that  I  had  asked  Miss  Seacrest  to  be 
my  wife,  and  she  refused,  so  you  will  oblige  me  by  paying 
me  the  half  of  the  estate  at  the  earliest  convenience.  I 


210  THREE    PLAYS 

am  entitled  to  that  anyway.  Whether  I  am  entitled  to 
Miss  Seacrest's  share  we  will  let  the  courts  decide  later. 

LIEBER.  When  did  you  ask  the  young  lady  to  be  your 
wife? 

DAVIES.  Three  days  ago  in  this  house.  She  will  not 
deny  it. 

LIEBER.  Were  you  legally  entitled  to  ask  her  to  be 
your  wife  at  that  time? 

DAVIES.     What  do  you  mean?     Certainly  I  was. 

MARTHA.  (Stepping  forward.)  It's  a  lie.  You're 
my  sister's  wedded  husband,  God  help  her. 

SMITHERS.  And  God  help  you.  You  know  what  I 
mean. 

DAVIES.  Nonsense ;  the  ceremony  with  your  sister  was 
only  a  joke. 

LIEBER.  A  pretty  expensive  joke  for  you,  Captain. 
I  have  here  a  certificate  of  marriage,  in  good  form  before 
a  magistrate,  with  Clara  Jackson,  and  that  marriage  was 
a  perfectly  legal  one  in  every  way — unless  you  had 
another  wife  living  at  the  time. 

DAVIES.  You  win  the  trick,  gentlemen,  but  if  there 
are  any  trumps  left  I  will  get  them  out  and  win  the  game. 

LIEBER.  Unless  you  sail  for  Europe  within  two  days, 
I  will  have  you  arrested  for  having  attempted  to  murder 
George  Dinsmere. 

DAVIES.  Hang  it.  I  cannot  leave  New  York ;  my  last 
dollar  is  gone. 

LIEBER.  If  you  care  to  go  to  the  Argentine,  I  will 
book  your  passage  by  the  next  steamer,  and  give  you  a 
thousand  dollars  to  drink  yourself  to  death  with  when  you 
land  there. 

DAVIES.  You  have  cheated  me  out  of  a  fortune. 
Make  it  ten  thousand.  That  is  the  least  the  Major  can 
do. 

EVY.     Let  him  have  it,  uncle  dear,  please. 

LIEBER.     Yes,  Dinsmere,  let  him  have  it. 


THE    SUBTERFUGE  211 

MAJOR.     Very  well ;  call  on  Mr.  Lieber  tomorrow. 

HUGH:  And  now,  darling,  we  will  continue  our  honey 
moon  as  first  planned,  although  I  feel  a  terrible  thief  to 
be  running  away  with  so  much  beauty  and  riches. 

EVY.  Your  love  repays  me  a  hundred-fold  for  every 
thing. 


CURTAIN 


THIS   BOOK  IS  DUE  ON   THE   LAST  DATE 
STAMPED   BELOW 


RENEWED  BOOKS  ARE  SUBJECT  TO  IMMEDIATE 
RECALL 


LIBRARY,  UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  DAVIS 

Book  Slip-10m-l,'63(D5068s4)45i 


^"267338 


^atter^,   M.D. 
Three  plays. 


Call  Number: 

PS3511 
L35 

T5 


267338 


